^  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  ^^ 


Presented    byP T~(^^  \  c\(Sr\-V  V^VVc  \ 

BV  4211  .H54  1869b 

Hood,  Edwin  Paxton,  1820- 

1885. 
Lamps,  pitchers  and  trumpets 


Lamps,  Pitchers  and  Trumpets. 

Second    Sei\ies. 


Uniform  with  this  Volume, 

Lamps,  Pitchers  and  Trumpets. 

yi  RST     S  ERIES. 

Discussing  Preachers  and  Preaching  from  the  Apos- 
toKc  AgQ  to  the  Present  Time. 

WITH    '^PULPIT    MONOGRAPHS" 

On    Paul,    Chrysostom,    St.  Bernard,    Puritan    Adams,    and 
Christmas  Evans. 

Each  Scries  One  Volume  large  i2mo,  price  81.75,  sent  by  mail, 
post  paid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  Publisher. 


Lamps^  y  itchers  and     rumpets 


LECTURES 


ON  THE 


VOCATION   OF   THE   PREACHER. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    ANECDOTES,    BIOGRAPHICAL, 

HISTORICAL,    AND    ELUCIDATORY,    OF    EVERY    ORDER    OF    PULPIT 

ELOQUENCE,    FROM    THE    GREAT    PREACHERS    OF    ALL    AGES. 


BY 


EDWIN   PAXTON   HOOD, 

MINISTER  OV  QUEEN-SQtTARE   CHAPEL,  BRIGHTON,  AUTHOR  OP  WORDS-SVORTH : 
AN  AESTHETIC  BIOGRAPHY,"   "DARK,  SAYINGS  ON  A  HARP,"   ETC. 


jSecond     Sei^ies. 


.NEW    YORK: 

M.   W.  DoDD,   No.    506    Broadway, 
I  869. 


TO 


CHARLES  HADDON  SPURGEON, 

My  Dear  Fkiend, 

It  is  very  natural  tliat  I  should  inscribe  this  volume 
to  you,  as  it  is  composed  of  Lectui'es  mostly  delivered  to 
the  Students  of  your  Pastor's  College  ;  and  you,  who  heard 
most  of  them,  expressed  yourself  most  kindly  about  them. 
I  will  not  deny  myself  this  pleasure,  although  I  have  de- 
voted a  paper,  not  dehvered  as  a  Lecture,  to  yourself  in 
the  volume.  I  will  only  say  these  Lectures  do  not  aim  to 
be  a  Course  of  Lectui-es  on  Homiletics,  I  may  possibly  at- 
temjDt  this  more  ambitious  task  some  day.  Please  to  take 
this  volume  as  an  affectionate  and  reverent  acknowledg- 
ment of  that  extraordhiary  work  you  have  been  called 
upon  to  perform.  With  earnest  desires  for  your  long- 
continued  life  and  usefuhiess, 

I  am,  my  Dear  Friend, 

Heartily  yours, 

EDWIN  PAXTON  HOOD. 


CONTENTS. 


LECTURE  I. 

THE  PULPIT  OF  OVn  AGE  AND  TIMES  .  .  .  . 

pulpit  ^Hono^rrtpljs.— I.    feederick  p.obeetson 

LECTURE  II. 
ON  arrangement  of  texts  by  division 

LECTURE  III. 
concerning  written  and  extemporary  sermons 
^9ulpit  ^Honcsrapfts.— II.    pcsey,  manning,  and  newman 

LECTURE  IV. 
ON  effective  preaching,  and  the  foundation  of  legit- 
imate SUCCESS  ..... 

IJuIytt  iHonocjrapts. — iii.    Charles  spurgeon  . 


Page 
.     11 

.    34 


86 


105 
137 


.  157 
.  185 


LECTURE  V. 

ON  the  mental  tools  and  apparatus  needful  for  the 

PULPIT  .......   217 

3^jirpft  iHoTtoijrapDs. — iv.    the  abbe  lacordaire  and  thomas 

binney         .....'.  255 


\ 


I. 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times. 

HE  subject  of  this  lectui-e  i)resents  tlie  pith  of  tho 
whole  matter.  Our  Times;  the  Preachers  and 
the  Times,  and  their  relation  to  each  other. 

I  wish  to  review  those  weaknesses  w^hich  we 
may  avoid  or  strengthen  ;  but  I  wish  also  in  doing  so  to 
avoid  that  tone  of  insolent  assumption  in  wliich  some  have 
spoken  lately  of  the  pulpit,  and  its  men.  ^Vhat  are  preach- 
ers ?  Well,  let  us  say  at  once  that  what  the  proj^het  said 
of  old  is  true  of  them,  "  They  are  men  and  not  gods,  and 
their  bodies  are  flesh  and  not  spirit."  It  is  probably  tme 
that  the  pulpit  is  not  what  we  could  wish  it  to  be — perhaps 
not  what  it  ought  to  be  ;  but  still  I  believe  it  is  with  iufinito 
disadvantages,  all  circumstances  considered,  the  holiest, 
noblest,  and  finest  thing  m  the  country  ;  it  is  the  most 
hardworked  ;  it  is  the  most  unselfish  ;  it  is  incomparably 
the  worst  x^aid  thing  within  it.  It  has  the  largest  demands 
for  the  most  manifold  labors,  and,  on  the  whole,  as  com- 
pared with  all  things  it  is  successful.  Successful  it  is  with 
all  its  shortcomings — never  so  successful  as  now.  It  has 
been,  of  coui'se,  the  usual  pohcy  of  the  wits  and  the 
evangelists  of  the  Church  of  England  to  depreciate  our 
ministry ;  let  us  not  do  so.     Sidney  Smith,  that  able  minis- 

(ii) 


12    /S.  Smith  and  C.  Simeon  on  Dissenters. 

ter  of  tlie  New  Testament,  and  liigli  priest  of  the  profession 
of  small  jokes  and  large  dinners,  used  to  say :  — 

Any  man  may  depart  from  the  Chnrch  of  England,  and  preach 
against  it  by  paying  sixpence.  Almost  every  tradesman  in  a 
market  town  is  a  preacher.  It  must  absolutely  be  cyen  this  Tvith 
them — the  butcher  must  hear  the  baker  in  the  morning,  and  the 
baker  hear  the  butcher  in  the  afternoon,  or  there  would  be  no 
congregation.  We  have  often  speculated  upon  the  peculiar  trade 
of  the  preacher  fromJiis  style  ©faction;  some  strike  strongly 
against  the  anvil  of  the  pulpit ;  some  have  a  tying  up,  or  a 
l)arcel  i^acking  action;  some  bore;  some  act  as  if  they  were 
managing  the  needle.  The  occupation  of  the  XDrcacher's  week 
can  seldom  be  mistaken. 

This  is  poor  stuff,  bat  is  is  a  veiy  good  specimen  of  the 
wit  of  Sidney  Smith.  The  evangelist  of  the  Church  of 
England,  Charles  Simeon,  the  author  and  framer  of  a  greater 
quantity  of  dreary,  bony,  school-of-anatomy  style  of  preach- 
ing, than  any  man  that  ever  lived,  was  not  more  compli- 
mentary to  us.  He  says,  "  How  diffusive,  and  heavy  and 
overwhelming,  is  the  style  of  Dissenters'  preachings  !'* 
(witness  the  four  vols,  of  the  Skeletons,  just  published) 
they  endeavor  to  collect  as  much  as  possible  together  into 
a  sermon.  Robert  Hall  is  reported  to  have  addressed  a 
young  St.  John's  man  thus :  '  Do  not  iroitate  out'  style ; 
you  have  plenty  of  good  divines  in  yoiu-  ovv^n  chiu'ch. 
Never  attempt  to  aim  at  our  style  of  wordiness,  diffuse- 
ness  and  declamation.'  "  The  ad\ice  is  good  fi'om 
wherever  it  came.  I  do  not  believe  that  Eobert  Hall  ever 
passed  such  a  criticism,  or  gave  such  advice,  the  language 
is  surely  not  his  ;  and  if  he  did  give  such  advice,  it  does  but 
prove  he  knew  not  of  w^hat  he  w^as  talking.  At  n  time 
when  Collyer,  and  Eobert  McAll,  and  Alexander  Waugh, 
and  Bogue  of  Gosport,  and  John  Giiffin,  and  Cooke  of 
Maidenhead,  and  Angell  James,  and  "William  Jay,  and 
James  Parsons,  and  Stratten,  and  Andi'cws  of  Walworth, 


The  Puliyit  of  our  Age  and  Times.       i  o 

and  Guycr,  and  Hamilton,  and  Ely  of  Leeds,  were  in  the 
zenith  of  their  power  ;  to  characterise  our  pulpit  thus  was 
impossible  to  the  genius  of  Robert  Hall,  though  quite  in 
hamiony  with  the  narrowness  of  mind  and  heart  of  so  good 
a  man  as  Itlr.  Simeon.  The  depreciation  of  the  pulpit  now 
is  still  more  remarkable.  Such  depreciatioji,  in  almost  all 
instances,  emanates  from  ungodly  editors  and  laymen 
belonging  to  the  Church  of  England,  whose  estimate,  of 
course,  of  pulpit  success  and  power,  is  the  measure  of  flash, 
or  of  finish  m  a  sermon  ;  and  with  them,  Dr.  Dodd  in  one 
age,  and  IVIr.  Bellew  in  another,  are  t^^^ical  of  the  highest 
order  of  excellence.  Or  such  depreciation  comes  fi'om  the 
minister  who,  without  much  faith,  perhaps  unsuccessful 
himself,  has  grown  envious,  and  sneers  at  eveiy  kind  of 
success,  in  the  department  in  which  he  has  failed. 

Pi'ominent- among  these  quarrellers  with  the  pulpit  is  the 
Salurday  Beview.  It  has  expressed  itself  thus,  "  There  is  a 
gulf  between  the  clerical  mind  and  the  ordinary  male 
mind,  which  is  deep  and  daily  deepening  ;  on  the  one  side 
it  is  a  pity  akin  to  contempt,  too  apathetic  to  fonn  itself 
into  words  ;  on  the  other,  there  are  pious  hands  uplifted 
in  meek  sj)itefulnGSs."  The  same  pious  and  respectable 
organ  says,  "  The  mass  of  the  male  sex  look  upon  religion 
as  a  womanish  kind  of  thing."  Another  of  these  insolent 
and  unworthy  attacks  is  from  the  pen  of  one  who  calls  him- 
self "  A  Dear  Hearer  ;"  it  has  received  the  most  encomiastic 
eulogies  from  The  HomUist,  which,  in  its  usual  inflated  style, 
speaks  of  it  as  having  the  ring  of  Luther  and  Junius.  This 
expletive  style  of  praise  is  very  cheap  and  very  easy,  yet  the 
thing  contains  hints  which  may  be  used,  although  it  is  to  be 
deplored  that  the  editor  of  a  periodical,  hhnseh  a  preacher, 
can  only  set  his  hand  to  endorse  the  bill  filed  agauist  all  his 
brethren,  and  his  whole  profession. 

Wlien  I  read  these  tliiugs,  I  enquire  whether  the  difficulties 
we  have  in  the  pulpit  of  to-day  are  a  whit  less,  or  even  a 


1 4  The  Modern  Pulpit 

whit  different  fi'om  those  which  met  the  apostles  in  the  first 
age.  The  progi'ess  of  the  ages  does  not  advance  man  one 
step  towards  a  more  favorable  view  of  divine  things  and 
truths.  Eecollecting  that  Paganism  is  in.  the  human  heart, 
and  Positivism  in  the  human  mind.  These  are  the  two 
enemies  that  Paul  had  to  attack  ;  and  he  will  be  the  most 
successful  preacher  who  sets  himself  most  dehberately — not 
to  beat  roimd  the  bush,  complimentiag  human  nature,  on 
its  progress  in  art,  in  civilization ;  but  who  attacks  these 
two  strongholds  of  error.  Infidelity  ia  man,  which  tells  him 
to  lean  on  law — Positivism,  the  hardness  of  our  times  ;  and 
Paganism,  which  tells  hun  to  clothe  himself  in  superstitions 
and  formalities,  the  effeminacy,  the  softness  of  the  times. 
And  certainly  to  storm  these  castles,  "Innocent  Young 
Sermons,"*  will  be  of  httle  avail. 

And  stni,  as  I  have  ah-eady  said,  I  shall  in  no  case  yield 
to  the  impression,  that  the  pulpit  is  behiud  other  professions 
in  the  average  number,  and  eminency,  and  use  of  its  pro- 
fessors ;  for  while  in  every  other  profession  eveiything 
makes  way,  against  this  everythiag  helps  to  erect  a  barrier  ; 
other  professions  educate  the  animal  and  the  devil  in  man, 
this  does  all  to  rejDress  both.  The  eminence  of  the  j^reacher, 
when  he  makes  Ms  way  to  eminence,  is  often  in  the  very 
teeth  of  all  that  helps  to  eminence  elsewhere.  The  bar  is 
thronged  with  men,  and  the  House  of  Commons  has  its 
continued  succession  of  members ;  there  are  very  few 
Bm-kes  and  Cannings,  and  Chathams,  in  either  one  or  the 
other  ;  no,  the  mantle  of  Erskiue  and  Curran  does  not  seem 
to  fall  more  fi-equently  on  men  at  the  bar  than  the  mantle 
of  Paul,  or  Chrysostom,  on  men  in  the  pulpit.  "MTiatever 
we  may  say  of  the  eloquence  of  the  present  day,  I  suppose 
it  is  higher  and  better  than  the  eloquence  of  the  bar  or  the 
senate  ;  and  I  suppose,  in  the  history  of  eloquence,  in  the 
literatui'e  of  our  country,  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit  far 
*  See  Chronicles  of  CavVnvjford — Salem  CJinpel. 


Tlie  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.        i  r 

transcends  that  we  meet  in  any  other  arena.  We  deplore 
our  want  of  success  as  a  class,  but  we  can  still  afford  to  say 
to  those  who  sneer  at  us,  "  Physician,  heal  thyself  ;"  and 
this  Nonconformists  may  especially  say.  What  can  invoke 
and  beckon  a  man  to  the  Nonconformist  ministry  ?  Let  a 
man  attain  to  the  largest  and  highest  position  amongst  us, 
and  his  emohmient  wdll  be  poor  compared  with  that  he 
might  obtain  by  push  and  tact  in  trade  ;  but,  orduiarily, 
he  will  have  to  i^are  down  all  his  wants  to  an  income  barely 
sufficient  to  keep  body,  and  soul,  and  family  together.  He 
is  to  be  the  leader  of  pubhc  opinion,  and  he  will  receive  the 
income  of  a  fourth  or  fifth-rate  clerk  ;  on  this  he  is  to  keep 
his  information  and  books  abreast  of  the  philosophy  and  the 
reading  of  the  age  ;  he  will  have  tastes  far  above  his  cir- 
cumstances, his  education  and  the  sphituahty  of  his  natm-e 
will  give  these,  and  he  must  mingle  with  men  of  taste,  but 
he  will  have  no  means  of  gratifying  them.  Pictm-es,  busts, 
books  and  instruments,  furnishing  the  avenues  and  inlets 
to  the  great  world  of  knowledge,  can  rarely  come  into  his 
house.  He  must  be  the  chief  in  chapel  reaiings,  and  the 
extinction  of  chapel  debts,  or  the  erection  of  school-rooms, 
and  he  must  be  content  to  see  his  income  and  salary  dwai-f 
down  to  the  merest  minimum,  while  the  debt  remains. 
With  aU  this  there  must  not  be  a  whisper  that  his  trades- 
men's bills  are  overdue,  for  there  is  more  consistency 
expected  from  him,  and  therefore  less  mercy  will  be  shown 
to  him.  Moreover,  his  worst  work,  his  sermon,  is  most  in 
sight — always  before  men  for  their  remarks  ;  his  most 
valuable,  his  pastoral  labor,  all  out  of  sight  and  unknown, 
his  attendance  to  prayer-meetings,  and  cottage  meetings. 
His  self-consciousness  mil  be  trained  by  incessant  criticism, 
and  he  will  be  expected  to  be  humble  and  meek  before 
captious  remarks  m  private  and  pubhc  criticisms  and  sneers. 
It  is  not  possible  to  do  more  than  glance  slightly  at  some 
of  the  influences  which  have  operated  on  the  formation  of 


1 6        G  Simeon—''  The  Oyster-Knife  StyUy 

the  pulpit  metliod  of  our  da}^  One  of  tlie  most  proQiiiicnt 
is  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  ;  it  is  that  of  Charles 
SraiEON  and  the  mighty  regiment  of  Simccnites.  His 
sketches  and  skeletons  have  been  well  compared  to  a  gi-eat 
bone  house,  and  however  vigorous  they  were  when  Simeon 
himself  hved  in  them,  and  made  them  effective  and  affect- 
ing, they  are  simply  now  very  many  and  very  dr^^  It  has 
also  been  well  said  that  he  sent  his  young  disciples  forth 
to  a  sermon-fisher}^,  not  to  a  field  of  battle,  and  he  gave  to 
each  a  present,  not  a  sword,  but  an  oyster-knife  ;  that  is 
just  the  Simeon  method — it  was  to  open  texts — it  was  not 
possible  that  this  method  should  ever  make  gi-eat  preach- 
ers, and  from  Simeon's  disciples  never  came  forth  a  great 
preacher.  Let  us  speak  of  them  with  honor ;  they  have 
been  good,  earnest  men,  and  as  narrow  as  good  ;  while  I 
do  very  much  fear  and  tliink,  that  the  end  of  that  oyster- 
knife  style  of  preaching  has  been  to  create  Colensos  ;  it  is 
a  style  that  stakes  all  usefiihiess  upon  the  mere  letter  of 
the  Scripture.  Never  was  there  a  more  little,  prett}^,  chim- 
ney-ornament sort  of  shell,  or  fossihsed  and  osseous  frag- 
ment, than  produced  by  this  being  great  at  opening  tests, 
and  feeble  at  saving  souls. 

This  is  an  influence  in  our  day  confined  chiefly  A\-ithin 
the  walls  of  the  Estabhshment,  and  there,  principally,  to 
what  is  called  the  Low  Church  school ;  our  circle  has  been 
touched  by  another  influence.  I  fear  we  must  give  to  the 
late  Dr.  Harris  the  honor  of  introducing  very  largely  into 
our  pulpit  that  other — which  perhaps  I  may  be  pardoned 
for  calling  the  most  objectionable  and  fatal  thing  in  the 
l^ulpit  of  modern  times,  The  Religious  Essay.  It  was  a 
l)cautiful  and  affecting  thing  to  hear  Dr.  Harris  ;  but  the 
style  in  other  hands  really  became  as  imjijressive  as  sweet 
oil  on  marble.  I  believe  for  consciousness  and  for  con- 
science the  thing  was  and  is  useless.  In  most  men  it  has 
become  a  mere  monotony  of  pointless  words  ;   there  is 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.         \j 

notliing  to  stick,  and,  as  Watts  has  well  said,  "  Can  an  aiTow 
wound  when  it  will  not  stick  ?"  I  ain  far  fi'om  dcn^dng 
tliat  this  style,  or  that  Dr.  Harris's  style,  is  remarkable  for 
its  elegance ;  but  give  this  i^raise,  this  is  but  i^oor  praise 
for  the  i^reacher — what  is  elegance?  It  is  the  doctrine  of 
the  curve,  the  never  too  much  of  any  creed ;  but  curves 
are  not  points,  and  we  often  need  the  impressiveness  of 
angles.  Now,  a  great  deal  of  the  criticism  of  men  of  the 
world,  scholars  and  statesmen,  just  brings  to  this  result, 
the  testing  of  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit  by  its  repose,  its 
rest,  its  elegance,  and  unity.  You  must  feel  that  there 
is  something  far  more,  and  far  higher  than  elegance  in 
preaching.  Choice  of  pretty  words,  pretty  combinations 
of  unity  of  speech  and  sentiment.  Eobert  Hall  was  a 
great  man  :  I  supj)ose  he  was  a  wonderful  preacher  ;  but 
what  a  far  more  wonderful  preacher  he  would  have  been  if 
he  had  broken  his  style  from  the  fi'equently  tame  magnifi- 
cence into  the  grand,  rugged,  and  abrupt  coruscations 
which  shine  in  such  jagged,  but  lightning-hke  majesty  in 
his  Table  Tdk.  Now,  if  there  is  anything  a  real  and  work- 
ing mind  disdains,  it  is  the  spectacle  of  prettiness  in  the 
pulpit,  it  is  usually  the  assurance  of  moral  infirmity.  Did 
it  ever  occur  to  you  to  think  of  the  Unitarian  pulpit,  and 
of  the  really  eminent  and  able  men  who  have  filled  it ;  but 
how  powerless,  how  utterly  powerless?  The  Unitarian 
pulpit  has  busied  itself  with  the  composition  and  the 
preparation  of  these  same  pretty  httlc  essays ;  indeed,  I 
^all  say,  that  Unitarianism  is  only  cold  and  icy,  when  talk- 
ing of  Christ  and  His  Cross.  On  the  great  tmths  of  civil 
and  rehgious  freedom,  the  Unitarian  kindles  with  raptui-e 
and  eloquence  ;  and  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  there 
is  something  in  the  Divine  breath,  when  it  blows  the  soul, 
which  gives  a  magnificent  and  sublime  contortion  to  the 
style,  the  contoiiion  of  the  Gotliic  fiiczo,  and  the  gi*oin- 
work  of  the  Saxon  arch.     Cliief  of  this  cold  style,  I  think 


1 8  Thomas  Bmney. 

I  must  mention  William  John  Fox  and  James  Maetineau. 
A  man  can  only  preach  well  when  he  is  moved  by  "  the 
l^owcrs  of  the  world  to  come,"  when  he  preaches  as  "see- 
ing Him  who  is  invisible" — visible  truths — ^but  an  invisible, 
although  real  world,  this  makes  a  great  preacher. 

But  I  have  spoken  of  the  difficulties  of  the  pulpit  in  our 
day.  Chief  among  the  difficulties,  I  place  the  pecuharities 
of  the  age  itself ;  it  is  not  merely  that  so  much  is  expected 
from  the  minister,  such  a  tax  of  brain,  to  bring  out  per- 
petually something  new,  so  much  necessity  to  keep  the 
mind  fresh  and  awake,  and  so  Httle  sj^npathy  with  all  this ; 
in  addition  to  aU  this,  there  is  such  a  subtle  power  abroad, 
thought  is  finding  men  out;  we  Hve  in  such  a  conscious, 
such  a  self-conscious  age  ;  it  is  not  merely  thoughtful,  I 
say  it  is  subtle,  it  is  introspective,  and  very  much  of  this 
must  be,  I  beheve,  sadly  diseased.  Amidst  all  this,  poor 
preachers  are  expected  to  be  always  healthy.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think,  that  the  preacher  who  has  embodied  all 
this  in  the  most  remarkable  manner  is  Thobias  Bixney  ;  to 
my  mind  he  has  stood  revealed  as  in  many,  and  most 
particulars,  the  greatest  preacher  in  England  in  our  age  ; 
he  has  not  attracted  the  greatest  number,  but  he  has 
searched  most  deeply  and  thoroughly  those  whom  he  has 
attracted  ;  his  words  have  had  the  effect  of  magnetism  in 
finding  then-  w^ay  to  the  brain.  I  think  of  modem  minis- 
ters he  has  ministered  most  to  the  thoughtful.  What 
sights  some  of  us  have  seen  at  the  Weigh  House — sights, 
the  like  of  which  we  shall  never  see  again,  a  whole  congre- 
gation bowed  to  tears  ;  sometimes,  it  must  also  be  admit- 
ted, moved  to  laughter,  the  man  fighting  his  way  through 
all  the  phases  of  the  text,  following  his  thought  in  concep 
tion  into  every  imaginative  comer,  now  refining,  it  may 
be,  too  much,  now  throwing  out  some  daring  thought, 
tlu-owuig  youi-  mind,  almost  your  moral  nature,  on  itself 
in   a   recoil,    and  now  a   strain   as   of  some  lofty  hymn, 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.  1 9 

some   bardic   rapture,    in   a   word,   a   lofty  preacLing   to 
thought. 

If  you  go  into  large  towns,  if  you — as  I  tmst  you  will — 
enter  into  the  company  of  men,  you  will  fmd  that  you  too 
must  minister  to  the  thoughtful.  How  will  you  do  it? 
You  will  ovlj  do  it  by  yourselves  becoming  men  of  thought 
and  praj^er — "there  is  a  Idnd  that  gceth  not  forth  but 
by  prayer  and  fasting."  You  can  only  answer  the 
problems  of  the  soul  by  experience.  Experience  is  the 
truest  and  best  exposition,  this  will  giYQ  the  readings  of 
many  a  text,  and  often  many  a  difficulty,  and  only  so  will 
your  auditors  feel  that  you  are  theu'  teacher,  while  feeling 
that  you  have  been  into  the  furnace  and  the  difficulty  be- 
fore them. 

Once  more  I  remind  you  of  your  difficulties.  Science 
has  disjDlaced  wonder,  there  is  no  strange  jDlace,  there  is  no 
strange  thing,  ever^'thmg  and  eveiy  spot  is  now  made 
famihar  to  the  mind,  hence  our  difficulty  has  greatly  in- 
creased. Yet,  you  still  have  to  meet  both  natures  in  man, 
his  understanding  and  his  faith.  You  Tivill  notice  how 
many  preachers  permit  the  subtle  to  predominate  over  the 
practical,  they  fancy  that  in  this  they  satisfy  by  entering 
into  the  essential  reason  of  things ;  on  the  contrary,  in 
others  the  merely  practical  becomes  turgid.  "We  should 
rise  to  ideal  views  of  all  truth.  Is  it  not  tiTie,  that  that 
which  satisfies  the  understanding,  leaves,  in  fact,  the 
whole  nature  unsatisfied ;  leaves  the  infinite  heights  and 
breadths  in  which  the  soul  may  sublimely  exercise  herself  ? 
Rise  to  the  ideal,  the  wiag  in  the  cloud,  but  di'op  in 
harmony  and  happiness  refreshed  to  earth  agaia.  You 
would  secure  behef — now,  aU  preaching  to  be  successful 
must  always  be  based  in  common  sense,  but  especially 
now  ;  begin  fii'st  to  seciu'e  behef  by  la}dng  down  her  prin- 
ciples, and  defining  and  showing  the  reasonal>lcncss  of  her 
grounds,  and  then  that  which  we  call  rhetoric,  eloquence, 


20       Theology  of  tJte  Intellect  and  Feelings. 

sets  tlio  logical  framework  in  a  blaze.  This  is  just  the 
image  :  look  at  all  the  arrangements  for  an  immense  mag- 
nificence of  fii-eworks  ;  all  those  sticks  are  arranged,  and, 
most  necessarily  ;  they  contain  all  the  combustibles  for  the 
display,  but  unignited  ;  but  the  fii'e  kindles,  and  there  and 
then  rush  forth  all  the  sx^lendors  of  the  many-colored 
flames.  A  rocket  stick  is  a  poor  substitute  for  fireworks ; 
tiaie,  but  we  cannot  do  without  the  stick  ;  it  is  a  pity  that 
in  the  matter  of  preaching  many  persons  mistake  the  stick 
for  the  rocket.  And  this  leads  to  another  remark  :  you 
must  in  this  day  relate  together  the  theology  of  the  intel- 
lect and  the  theology  of  the  feehngs.*  You  must  do 
homage  to  both,  all  things  demand  that  you  do  homage  to 
both  ;  it  has  been  well  said  that  the  sensitive  pai't  of  oui* 
nature  quickens  the  perceptive,  the  theology  of  the  intel- 
lect enlarges  and  improves  that  of  the  feelings,  and  is  also 
enlarged  and  improved  by  it.  I  am  happy  to  think  that 
you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  using  as  yours  language  which 
the  Holy  Book  and  the  holiest  hjminologists  have  used  : 
mtensely  sensuous ;  but  if  you  see  the  law  it  represents, 
if  you  recognize  and  understand  such  expressions  in  the 
spiiit  that  prompted  them,  even  in  the  spirit  of  the  schools, 
you  wiR  make  your  meaning  felt.  John  Foster  has  well 
said  that  "when  a  man  j)rays  aright,  he  forgets  the 
philosoi)hy  of  prayer,"  and  so  when  men  are  deeply  af- 
fected in  preaching,  they  very  likely  disturb  the  logical 
proportions  of  thcii'  subject ;  but  it  is  in  such  moments 
they  give  the  truest  impressions  of  it.  I  have  little  hesita,- 
tion  in  saying  that  the  finest  illustration  of  this  inflamed 

logic  is  ViNET. 

That  the  ministiy  is  often  unsuccessful  is  to  be  deplored, 

*  See,  upon  this  topic,  an  invaluable  essay  or  discourse  by  Dr.  Ed- 
wards Park  "  On  the  Tlicolon-y  of  the  Intellect  and  the  Feelings," 
roprintc^l  iti  the  Eclectic  llcD'.cio  for  1SG5  (.Tanuary — February). 


Tlie  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.         21 

and  it  should  bo  remembered  that  many  neighborhoods 
need  the  EvangeHst,  and  this  is  a  character  of  ministry 
which  may  need  some  special  remark.  While  letters  and 
pax^ers  have  been  teeming  from  oni'  denominational  organs 
on  the  evangelization  of  our  iTii'al  or  neglected  population, 
I  have  myseK  become  aware  of  a  httle  cii'cumstance  which 
has  lout  the  method  of  doing  the  desirable  work  in  alto- 
gether a  new  and  affecting  light.  In  a  wateruig-place — the 
best  known,  most  frequented,  and  most  densely  populated, 
near  London — in  an  outlying  district,  a  chapel,  a  mission 
chapel,  has,  within  the  last  two  years,  been  opened  by  the 
united  ser^dces  of  Thomas  Binney  and  Samuel  Morley  ; 
the  ministrations  conducted  siace  by  the  ministers  of  the 
town,  and  especially  by  the  earnest,  indefatigable  work  of  a 
local  lay  laborer  ;  but,  unhappil}',  some  Sabbaths  since, 
the  place  needed  a  supply,  and  there  was  a  necessity  for 
falhng  back  upon  one,  and  that  one  of  the  very  best  knovm 
of  oui*  Colleges.  Oui*  fi'iend,  the  local  lay  laborer,  himself 
a  man  of  very  clear  and  well-informed  inteUigence  among 
books,  as  well  as  men,  penetrated  into  the  vestry,  and  be- 
hold !  the  young  neoph}i;e,  to  his  undisguised  commingled 
horror  and  amazement,  draped,  and  swathed,  and  wrapped, 
and  flowered  in  all  the  adornment  of  gown,  cassock,  bands, 
&c.,  &c.  It  was  all  in  vain  that  our  friend  remonstrated 
that  a  gown  had  never  been  seen  in  the  building — that  the 
ministers  of  the  town,  who  w^ore  the  cloak  in  then-  own 
temples,  left  "  theu'  cloak  at  Ti-oas"  when  they  came  there 
— ^tlie  young  brother  was  obstinate — it  was  in  vain  to  re- 
mind him  that  the  people  might  laugh  at  it ;  that  they 
were  a  i)oor  plain  race  of  artizan  folk.  The  gown  was  an 
essential  part  of  his  inchviduality.  On  that  very  spot,  in  the 
streets  round  about,  something  more  than  Puseyism  w^as 
seeking  to  pervade  and  leaven  all  things  ;  it  was  argued 
that  it  w^as  necessary  to  keep  perfect  the  simphcity  of  our 
system — it  was  all  vain — the  service  v>'as  in  the  gown.    Our 


22  Instinct  for  Goiviis  vs.  InstiiK't  for  Souls, 

young  fiiend  even  became  affecting  as  he  declared  that  be 
could  not  preach  without  the  gown,  the  whole  vii-tue  of  the 
business  w  ould  be  lost  without  the  gown,  and  in  that  pul- 
pit, before  the  astonished  audience,  he  really  disported 
himself  in  that  fashion. 

The  incident  is,  we  are  half  afraid,  characteristic.  This 
httle  notice  of  it  has  been  pressed  upon  us  by  the  numer- 
ous effoi-ts  now^  made  to  reach  the  ear  and  the  heart  of 
the  people.  I  am  afraid  that  this  httle  circumstance  indi- 
cates the  principal  barrier  in  the  way  of  success,  in  the 
e\'angelization  and  conversion  of  the  people.  The  instinct 
of  gowns  is  gTeater  than  the  instinct  of  souls  ;  pei-fimctori- 
uess  is  death  to  vitality ;  and  what  can  touch  so  Hving  a 
thing  as  a  soul,  save  life — a  hving  soul  ?  And  how  is  Eng- 
land to  be  evangelized  ?  Has  anybody  much  hope  of  it  ? 
It  seems  all  our  work  goes  to  holding  fast  the  ground  we 
say  we  have.  We  seem  really  to  break  into  ver^^  little  new 
ground.  The  samts  have  to  be  fed  ;  and  that  feeding-time 
absorbs  all  the  labor  and  thought  of  many  of  our  churches 
and  mhiisters.  The  feeding-time  is  really  like  that  in  the 
Zoological  gardens ;  it  is  the  chief  thought  and  ob- 
ject of  attraction  ;  and  the  catching  of  animals  fi'om  the 
desert,  and  training  "  lions  and  beasts  of  savage  name,"  en- 
ters as  httle  really  iato  the  thought  of  nearly  aU  the  Chris- 
tians we  know,  ourselves  included,  as  the  catching  of  an 
African  lion  or  Bengal  tiger  enters  iato  the  thought  of  the 
visitors  standing  before  the  cage  in  the  menagerie.  This 
being  "fed"  and  being  "  built,"  is  the  death  to  all  true  pro- 
gress and  life  amongst  us  ;  and  we  greatly  fear  that  wdiat- 
ever  plans  may  be  devised  and  adopted,  they  are  likely  to 
fail,  because  they  do  not  si)iing  fi-om,  and  find  thcu'  satis- 
faction in,  that  instinct  for  souls.  For  instance,  of  what 
avail  is  it  to  lay  doAvn  rules  and  programmes  to  guide  a 
man  or  men  in  the  achievements  of  great  ministerial  works  ? 
Chiu-ches  have  a  favorite  theory  that  ministers  possess  an 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.         23 

order  of  piety  beyond  the  lay  members  of  the  ChurcL,  and 
they  test  their  theory  by  tryinp^  the  faith,  patience,  piety, 
and  self-denial  of  their  mmisters  ;  while  their  o^vn  little 
shps  of  those  "  plants  of  renovm  ,"  are  left,  for  the  most 
pai*t,  uncultivated.  I  .balieve,  if  most  ministers  S]^)oke  hon- 
estly, they  would  say,  "  That  which  we  preach  is  a  faith 
with  us.  We  believe  it  really,  but  we  don't  believe  it  more 
than  you.  You  call  for  extraordinary  work  fi'om  us  ;  we 
really  have  it  not  to  give.  We  mete  out  om*  labors  as  best 
we  may  ;  we  are  not  pressed  upon  by  burning  desires  and 
affections  ;  nor  are  you.  A  decent,  orderly,  well-conditioned, 
decorous  faith  is  all  that  either  of  us  have.  It  is  all  to 
which  we  can  minister ;  all  that  you  can  appreciate." 
Hence,  when  to  a  temper  hke  this,  mighty  propositions  are 
presented  about  the  worth  of  souls,  and  the  salvation  of 
souls,  etc,  the  language  lises  altogether  above  the  know- 
ledge or  the  conception.  It  certainly  would  not  do  to  say 
"  This  is  all  nonsense,  souls  are  of  no  value  ;  we  see  them 
plunging  out  into  the  gi'eat  night  that  hes  round  this  world 
— by  millions,  every  day — we  don't  beheve  in  then'  value — 
God  does  not  seem  to  care  about  them."  It  would  not  do 
to  say  that  bold  audacious  thing,  and  hence  men,  imable  to 
perceive  and  not  in  earnest  themselves,  create  perfunctory 
instrumentahties,  and  they  say  to  ministers,  "  We  will  collect 
a  certain  quantity  of  money,  you  go  and  do  the  feeling,  the 
bcheving,  the  loving,  the  praymg."  In  fact,  it  wiE  not  be 
wrought  that  way.  Religious  action  must  bear  up  like 
the  waters  of  the  great  Geyser,  mountains  high,  boiling 
from  the  deep  central  spring,  and  woe  betide  the  pots,  pans, 
kettles,  or  beefsteaks  {vide  Travels  in  Iceland)  that  stand  in 
the  way  of  it.  Yet,  sometimes  the  Geyser  has  seemed  to 
be  a  well-conducted,  well-behaved  Httle  thmg,  and  travellers 
have  boiled  and  washed  over  its  bubblmgs.  This  is  even 
that  which  many  of  us,  in  this  way,  have  done  by  our 
Corainitteedoms,  kc.     We  have  used  that  great  Geyser,  the 


24  Instinct  of  Committees  vs.  Instinct  for  Souls. 

religious  instinct  in  man,  as  a  means  for  keeping  our  pot 
boiling,  and  almost  all  our  modern  designs  about  religion 
look  in  that  direction.  "  Oh !  Clarkson,"  said  WilHam  Wil- 
berforce  to  his  great  coUaborateur,  when  he  called  upon  hun 
one  Sabbath  morning,  and  found  him  sitting  before  his 
table,  which  was  covered  with  i^apers  about  emancipation 
and  slave-trade — "  Oh !  Clarkson,  do  you  ever  think  about 
your  soul?"  and  Clarkson  rephecl,  "  Y\^ilberforce,  I  have 
time  to  think  about  nothing  now  but  these  poor  negroes.'* 
The  hrepressible  instinct  of  the  man,  the  divinely  self-ab- 
sorbed unselfishness  of  the  man  ;  something  hke  this  is  the 
only  power  which  will  tell  in  Evangehstic  movements.  AYe 
do  not  know  how  to  do  that  v/hich  we  desire  to  do. 
Protestantism  in  England  has  lost  the  art  of  converting 
souls.  My  readers  and  friends  will  not  suspect  me  of 
Papal  bearings  and  tendencies  ;  but  it  is  in  that  Church, 
which  numbers,  assuredly,  holy,  blessed,  and  devoted  men 
among  its  members,  we  must  look  for  illustrations  of  the 
instinct  for  souls.  Catholic  home  IMissions  are  very  success- 
ful. It  behoves  us  to  enquke — ^Wliy  and  how?  "What 
are  then-  ways  and  means  ?  So  many  reqmrements  go  to 
success  in  such  labor  ;  it  would  represent  a  power  for  hard 
work,  and  that  is  a  rare  faculty  ;  an  aptitude  and  fehcity  of 
speech  ;  a  command  over  sharp,  pointed  words  of  wisdom  ; 
fertihty  of  illustration,  to  take  the  stand  on  the  village 
green  or  in  the  market-place  ;  to  talk  like  a  gentleman,  so 
that  the  man  should  feel  the  presence  of  one  well  instructed 
and  able  to  guide  ;  and  to  talk  like  a  brother,  so  that  the 
hearer  should  not  imagine  the  speaker  as  hving  in  one  room, 
or  belonguig  to  one  famil}'-,  wliile  he  belonged  to  another  ; 
and  what  would  be  the  use  of  all  this  -without  the  button- 
hole power  ?  It  is  the  coming  to  close  quarters  that  tries 
the  stuff  in  a  man — the  ability  to  be  insulied  meekly,  and 
to  get  the  best  of  it,  that  is  a  rare  faculty — the  abihty  to 
let  disputations  and  grumbhng  stupidity,  ignorance,  and  in- 


Th 0  P a Ip it  of  our  Age  and  Times,         2 5 

fidelity  growl  or  talk  themselves  out,  and  then  slii)  in  a 
word  boggling  them,  putting  things  in  a  new  light,  so  that 
they  feel  that  the  man  knows  more  and  has  thought  more 
than  they  ;  and  then,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this,  miless  it 
is  picked  up,  followed  up,  ch-awn  and  coalesced  into  com- 
munities ?  All  success  must  depend  upon  fitness  and  adap- 
tation, and  the  chief  thing  of  aU  needed  would  be  not  an 
instinct  for  thoughts,  nor  an  instinct  for  books,  nor  an  in- 
stinct for  aesthetics — all  these  would  hui't  and  hinder  the 
work  ;  there  must  be  chief,  and  before  all  else,  an  instinct 
for  souls. 

And  what  would  that  represent  ?  The  preacher  would 
feel,  or  the  converser,  he  had  a  piece  of  knowledge  real  to 
himseh  to  give  to  the  people  before  hhn — the  people  would 
become  indi^iduahzed  to  him  in  one  soul,  and  he  w^ould  feel 
that  as  the  adding  of  one  chemical  to  another  entirely 
alters  the  quality  of  that  to  which  it  is  added,  so  that  piece 
of  knowledge  created  within  the  person  to  whom  he  spoke 
a  new  consciousness,  an  entirely  different  perception  of  him- 
self— ^life,  and  aU  his  and  its  relations.  Could  a  man,  feel- 
ing this,  be  finicking  about  his  instinct  for  gowns  or  modes 
of  speech  ?  Would  not  the  thought  give  to  him  a  divine 
abandonment  ?  Would  he  not  be,  as  Paul  said,  beside  him- 
self? But  without  something  of  this  kind  it  is  vain  to 
think  that  people,  rural,  artisan,  laboring,  plain,  poor  cot- 
tage peoi^le,  who  have  not  been  baked  into  Ecclesiastical 
shape  and  order,  arc  to  be  met.  We  have  a  morbid  hoiTor 
of  eccentricity,  and  I  will  be  boimd  to  say,  that  any  one  of 
our  brethren  going  down  to  evangelize  a  rural  district, 
would  either  in  the  village  chapel  or  on  the  village  green, 
give  out  a  well-approved  hymn,  sonorous,  long  measure, 
and  make  a  prayer,  a  kind  of  creed  or  confession  of  faith 
of  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  length,  and  then  deliver  a  sermon, 
from  which  should  studiously  be  eliminated  anything  that 
could  create  a  smile,  not  to  say  so  horrid  and  imgodly  a 


26       Success  of  Roman  Catliolic  Missions. 

thing  as  a  laugh,  every  touch  of  humanity  or  of  humor — 
almost  eveiything  that  could  convey  the  idea  that  the  man 
was  at  fi-eedom  and  ease  in  his  work.  Alas,  what  would 
the  brothers  of  the  Oratory  say  to  an  attempt  to  win  over 
England  to  Popeiy  and  Rome,  conducted  after  this  fashion  ? 
Truly  I  wish  they  would  try  this  fashion  ;  instead  of  that, 
they  try  the  method  of  the  Pauline  madness — "beside 
themselves."  Snatches  of  profane  song  made  sacred ; 
walking  to  and  fro  in  com-ts  and  alle^^s,  and  out-of-the-way 
nooks  ;  winning  by  a  strong  word,  accompanied  with  a 
kind  smile  ;  by  a  piercing  lightning-hke  truth  conveyed  at 
the  end  of  a  most  entertaining  anecdote,  and  so,  in  the 
course  of  a  year  or  two,  behold  a  church,  a  cathedral,  and 
Rome  flourishing  m  that  neighborhood  !  This  goes  on 
while  we  twaddle  upon  committees  and  read  minutes  of  the 
last  meeting,  and  get  out  our  reports,  and  wonder  who  will 
subscribe.  And  where  are  the  reports  of  all  the  Roman 
Cathohc  affihations  ?  What  printer  prmts  them  ?  Where 
are  the  magazines  that  glorify  them?  The  thing  rises  as 
silently  as  a  fog,  creeps  up  like  an  autumn  mist  over  the 
whole  landscape,  never  says  "I'm  coming,"  only  saj^s,  "  I'm 
here."  Gentlemen  who  are  interested  in  these  matters,  as 
who  with  a  Christian  heart  is  not  interested,  would  do  very 
well  to  read  the  late  Father  Faber's  Essay  on  CalJwUc  Home 
Missions.  It  would  seem  that  Romanism,  too,  has  its  mem- 
bers, to  whom  these  things  would  be  simply  disgusting  ; 
to  whom  graccf  nl  cowls,  and  matin  bells,  and  vesper  chimes, 
and  swelhng  chants,  and  swinging  lamps,  and  stem  old 
crusader's  tombs,  and  all  the  poetry  of  religion,  are  most 
attractive.  There  are  members  of  that  Chiu'ch,  as  of  our 
own,  who  would  look  with  contempt  if  they  met  the  Church 
upon  the  road,  out  of  breath,  pursuing  souls  with  bleeding 
feet,  hands  rough  and  chapped,  and  perspiration  streaming 
from  her  brow.  In  all  bodies  there  are  those  who  prefer 
ihe  elegant  to  the  prophetic  m  religious  matters.      Father 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Acje  and  Times.         27 

Faber  tells  a  story,  not  inapt,  howbeit  it  may  lorovoke  the 
smile  of  some : 

Once  upon  a  time,  as  story-tellers  say,  there  was  a  great  mis- 
sioner  in  France,  of  the  name  of  Morcain.  Now  it  came  to  pass 
that  this  great  missioner  was  going  to  give  a  mission  in  a  cer- 
tain French  town,  whose  inhabitants  were  very  much  opposed 
to  missions.  The  Devil  did  not  at  all  rehsh  the  prospect  of  the 
aforesaid  M.  Morcain ;  and,  after  due  deliberation,  entered  into 
the  ouvricrs  of  this  French  town,  and  inspired  them  with  a  de- 
sign quite  worthy  of  himself.  They  met  together,  and  they  were 
not  few  in  number,  and  they  set  out  with  their  arms  bare,  and 
their  teddytiler  caps  upon  their  heads,  as  nice  a  specimen  of 
sansculottism  as  may  well  be  conceived.  The  reader  may  di- 
vine the  interior  life  of  this  procession,  which  marched  out  to 
salute  in  somewhat  peculiar  fashion,  the  approaching  missionary. 
They  advanced  along  the  road  chantiiig  a  parody  of  the  j)opular 
song  :— 

C'est  ramour,  I'amour  Famour, 
Qui  mtine  le  monde  a  la  ronde, 
to  this  eflect — 

C'est  le  Morcain,  le  Morcain,  le  Morcain, 
Qui  dam  ne  le  monde  a  la  ronde  ; — 

The  unsuspecting  missioner  came  quietly  along  in  his  vehi- 
cle, very  likely  getting  up  his  evening  discourse,  when  lo  and 
behold !  he  is  in  the  middle  of  this  delectable  crowd.  How- 
ever, a  Frenchman  is  not  often  at  fault.  Forthwith  he  descends 
from  the  carriage,  jumps  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd,  takes 
hold  of  their  hands,  and  commences  dancing  in  the  most  bril- 
liant style,  at  the  same  time  joining  in  the  chorus  with  right 
good  will,  "  C'est  le  Morcain,  le  Morcain."  Away  he  goes  dan- 
cing and  singing,  and  his  sansculottes  with  him,  till  they  reach 
the  door  of  the  church ;  into  which  he  also  dances,  irreverent 
fellow !  and  the  crowd  after  him.  But  there  he  is  on  his  own 
ground,  and  straightway  he  mounts  the  pulpit,  and  preaches  a 
most  tremendous  fire-and-brimstone  sermon,  at  the  end  of  which 
he  proclaims  that  if,  during  the  whole  course  of  the  mission, 
any  one  who  has  sung  that  song  wants  to  go  to  confession,  he 
has  only  to  cry  out,  ^lonsicur  I  j'ai  chante  le  Morcain,  and  he 


28         The  True  Use  of  Excited  Feelings, 

shall  be  heard  immediately  before  any  one  else.  No  waiting  for 
turns  !  No  weaiy  delay  !  No  besieging  the  missioncrs'  confes- 
sional for  hours  !  No  !  he  has  gained  an  immediate  hearing  ! 
And  so  it  was.  Ever  and  anon,  during  the  mission,  from  the 
outermost  edges  of  huge  crowds  of  women  and  others,  no  mat- 
ter what  was  going  on,  came  in  a  loud  voice  the  appointed  sig- 
nal, Monsieur  !  j'ai  chante  le  Morcain.  No  sooner  said  than  done. 
It  is  as  though  he  were  some  royal  personage:  a  passage  is  form- 
ed through  the  Red  Sea  of  peojile  for  him ;  every  one  else  gives 
way  ;  no  one  claims  his  turn  ;  it  is  a  bargain  ;  it  is  fun  and  con- 
solation and  earnestness  all  in  one,  and  there  is  Monsieur !  j'ai 
chante  Ic  Morcain,  foreshadowing  his  own  arrival  and  acceptance 
one  day  at  his  Saviour's  feet  in  heaven,  in  tears  at  the  feet  of 
him,  who  thus  knew  how  to  be  all  things  to  all  men  that  by  any 
means  he  might  gain  some. 

We  quite  tliink  this  story  carries  our  piinciple  to  an  ex- 
treme, it  illustrates  Rome.  Wisdom  should  be  justified  of 
her  children  and  wisdom  may  be.  W^e  are  not  fastidious 
oiu"selves,  and  we  are  persuaded,  that  those  in  whom  is  un- 
folding the  instinct  of  souls  will  not  be  fastidious.  We 
must  recollect  that  we  approach  sinners,  all  of  whom  are 
about  an  equal  mixture  of  savage  and  child.  How  ridicul- 
ous the  method  which  should  deal  with  them  as  scholars, 
or  in  the  highest  sense,  as  men.  It  was  St.  Charles  Bor- 
romeo — a  great  example  for  us  all — every  way  a  Cai'dinal, 
but  a  great  Sunday-school  teacher,  perhaps  the  first  of  Sun- 
day-school teachers ;  a  beautiful  and  blessed  laborer  among 
the  poor  ;  it  was  he  v/ho  said  : — "  A  parish  priest  should  be 
like  a  French  milliner,  always  bringing  out  ne-w  modes,  in 
order  to  keep  up  the  interest,  and  stimulate  a  languishing 
taste."  Why  not?  This  is  the  use  of  excitement.  The 
Ivoman  Cathohc  Church  acts  upon  the  principle  of  periodi- 
cal missions  and  excitements  ;  feels  that  every  Church  needs 
an  occasional  visit  from  a  mission  to  re-awaken  its  energies. 
We  want  new  modes  for  ourselves  now,  and  without  them, 
and  r  fresh  and  fi'ec  soul,  able  to  use  them,  it  will  be  quite 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times,         29 

vain  to  think  of  being  useful  in  visits  of  evangelization. 
One  tiling  must  pre-eminently  be  borne  in  mind,  as  that 
which  alone  -uill  make  us  successful,  that  we  follow  the  in- 
stinct for  souls.  Ecclesiastical  pohtics  and  the  hke,  will 
come  after  if  they  come  at  all.  It  is  neither  an  instinct  for 
a  creed,  nor  an  instinct  for  an  ecclesiasticism,  we  must  fol- 
low to  be  successful  in  this  work.  It  really  seems  to  us 
that  we  have  done  oui*  best  to  kill  the  religious  instinct  ;  a 
fervent  conviction  dares  scarcely  show  itsoK ;  it  is  instantly 
called  to  order ;  oiu'  feehngs  are  made  to  order  too  ;  our 
eloquence  cut  out  after  a  pattern.  We  are  afi'aid  of  indi- 
vidualism. We  must  label  ourselves  sect  fashion.  We 
have  innumerable  httle  crochets,  and  if  the  workmg  of 
these  be  interfered  with,  we  walk  off,  talk  nonsense  about 
oui-  religious  liberty,  which,  for  the  most  part,  means  deter- 
mination at  all  hazards  to  have  our  own  way.  We  shelve 
oui-  responsibilities  in  the  cui)boards  and  desks  of  commit- 
tee-rooms— an  awkward,  plain-spoken  infidel  tells  us  we 
don't  love  souls,  etc.,  and  we  point  him  to  oiu'  name  down 
for  a  guinea  in  the  report  of  the  Cii'cumlocution  Society. 
We  estimate  all  divine  things  after  a  money  standard — not 
that  we  contribute  so  much  as  sects,  after  all — even  here 
we  do  not  test  our  own  resources  ;  and  meantime,  in  the 
depths  and  on  the  fi-inges  of  the  forest  land  of  oiu'  country 
on  the  wastes  of  moors,  in  out-of-the-way  hamlets,  in  vil- 
lages, there  are  men  and  women  it  is  well  known,  gi'owing 
up  who  know  no  more  about  Christ  and  His  salvation  than 
their  cows  and  pigs.  To  meet  this,  it  will  be  of  no  use 
thinkmg  of  any  usefulness  without  such  a  baptism  in  the 
worker  as  shall  really  be  equivalent  to  the  creation  and 
calling  into  existence  of  a  new  instinct.  I  read  a  httle  vol- 
ume which  I  am  glad  to  see  is  its  fifth  edition,  called, 
Strange  Tales,  by  John  Ash  worth.*    It  is  a  marvellous  little 

*  Strange  Talcs  from  Humble  Life.    By  John  Asli  worth.  5tb  Edi- 
tion. 


30 


Consecrated  Individualism, 


book.  It  is  a  wonderful  home  missionary  report,  and  we 
know  how  usefulness  may  be  perilled  by  pointing  at  it  the 
finger  of  prominency.  It  is  the  recitation  of  the  work 
which  I  believe  has  to  be  done,  and  the  way  in  which  it 
ought  to  be  done.  ^ii\  Ashworth  reahzes  what  I  have 
meant  all  along  by  this  instinct  of  souls — that  love  for  im- 
mortal mankind,  and  behef  that  we  have  the  power  to  reach 
it,  and  to  do  it  good,  which  overwhehns  all  obstacles  and 
bears  down  all  before  it.  It  is  really  the  story  af  the  life, 
walk,  and  triumph  of  faith.  Thus  a  simple  man  sets  to 
work — a  plain,  working-day  sort  of  man,  meets  with  laugh- 
ter and  contempt  from  the  people  who  do  salvation  by 
committees,  and  so,  after  waiting  awhile,  sets  to  work  him' 
self,  opens  his  chaj)el  for  the  destitute,  following  meantime 
his  own  trade,  expecting  to  make  no  worldly  gain  out  of 
his  labor  of  love  ;  continues  to  hold  and  to  fulfil  all  his  of- 
fices and  duties  as  a  lajTnan  in  the  church  to  which  he  be- 
longs. 

We  dei)reciate  no  means  for  effecting  an  entrance  into 
souls.  The  man  bathed  in  power,  all  his  faculties  alive, 
and  on  the  stretch  with  the  intensest  ardors  of  poetiy  and 
argument, — the  massive  man,  using  his  words  like  projectiles 
or  weapons  derived  from  some  great  arsenal,  for  assaulting 
the  inmost  recesses  and  sophistries  of  the  intelligence — even 
the  neat  and  fastidiously  careful  man,  who  wraps  up  his 
feelings  in  small  sentences,  and  pohshes  away  all  the  angles 
of  expression — the  hesitating,  clumsy,  but  scholarly  man, 
who  feels  that  he  only  f  idfils  himself  as  he  enters  the  neigh- 
borhood of  scholars — for  aU  these  men,  in  the  degree  in 
which  the  mstinct  for  souls  is  stirred  within  them,  we  have 
veneration  and  affection.  But  John  Ashworth  will  be  the 
best  type  of  man  for  the  evangelist ;  especially  there  is  a 
gi'eat  deal  of  work  best  done  as  the  "  saints"  and  "  serious" 
people  keep  out  of  the  way.  Their  criticisms,  and  remarks, 
and  physiognomies  are  veiy  often  not  a  help  to  a  man,  but 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.       3 1 

a  great  hindrance.  We  would  have  all  these  things  pon- 
dered, in  efforts  made  at  teaching  cither  artizans  in  towns 
or  laborers  in  villages.  The  princi^oal  interest  of  Coiigro- 
■gationalism  in  this  matter  is,  that  Congi-egationahsm  alone, 
for  the  most  part,  can  effect  it.  We  want  a  band  of  men, 
gifted  v/ith  a  fi'ee  spirit,  able  to  preach  with  a  gown  or 
without  a  gown — able  to  use  a  liturgy,  or  let  it  alone 
without  detiiment  to  their  devotion — able  to  pitch  a  tune 
themselves,  and  cany  a  congregation  aloft  upon  the  wings 
of  it,  or  to  }deld  themselves  with  as  much  plcasiu^e  to  the 
subduing  powers  of  an  organ  or  a  choh*.  The  Chui'ch  of 
England  mode  of  conversion,  as  we  very  well  know,  proceeds 
upon  the  assumption  of  the  younger  brother  who  happily 
furnished  us  with  our  text — it  must  be  done  in  chasuble  or 
gown  and  bands  ; — the  principal  feature  of  Congregational- 
ism, to  our  mind,  is,  that  it  is  versus  sacerdotahsm.  There 
are  two  chief  foes  to  the  rehgious  life  in  England  everj^'here, 
— indifference  is  one,  sacredotalism,  which  is  an  easy  lapse 
from  indifferentism,  is  the  other.  Congi'egationahsm  is  the 
coiTective  for  both  ;  it  is  the  corrective  for  indifference,  for 
it  strikes  at  the  individual  conscience  ;  it  is  a  corrective  for 
sacredotalism,  for  it  places  man  above  all  dependence  ujoon 
sacraments  and  forms  ;  but  then  it  is  necessary  that  the 
spirit  of  the  instructor  should  be  itself  charged  with  the  life 
it  aims  to  convey.  Where  the  ministry  of  the  word  is  not 
an  instinct,  it  will  be,  as  it  was  promised  Jerusalem  should 
be,  "  a  burdensome  stone."  Even  at  the  best,  how  difficult 
it  is  to  bear  up  the  spirit  in  the  midst  of  bodily  depression 
and  weariness,  the  captiousness  of  a  diseased  thirst  and 
morbid  cuiiosity,  the  fainting  of  the  spu'it  before  the 
unfaithfulness  and  sometimes  the  treachery  of  fiiends  ;  all 
these  difficulties  have  to  be  thought  of,  for  they  have  to  be 
encoimtered  ;  but  these  trials  will  be  greater  stiH  when 
there  is  a  demand  for  large  resources  of  bodily  strength  ; 
the  call  upon  nervous  energy  for  repeated  visitation,  and 


9  2     ClirlHikiniiii  lievieiving  her  Defenders. 

constant  conversation  wliere  conversation  is  to  be  a  reality. 
Most  persons  hope  to  get  through  hfe  with  ease  some  day, 
this  the  tme-hearted  minister  can  never  hope  to  do  ;  to 
him  his  work  must  be  always  toilsome  and  anxious,  for 
ever  haunted  by  the  mstinct  of  souls  ;  his  very  ground  of 
anxiety  not  comprehended  ;  perhaps,  by  even  his  friends 
around  hun  regarded  as  a  mystical  vagary,  a  haK-diseased 
dream,  fearful  of  himself,  fearful  for  others,  impelled  and 
moved  by  a  restlesness  caused  by  that  brooding  spuit, 
which  of  old  hovered  over  the  face  of  the  deep.  A\Tien  I 
think  of  all  these  things,  I  confess  I  do  not  hope  gi-eat 
things  fi'om  any  mere  new  effort,  rather  must  we  use,  as 
best  we  can,  the  very  poor,  inadequate,  and  incompetent 
machinery  we  can  command.  Perhaps  God  may  have 
some  resources  of  gxeat  men,  strong  instinctive  souls — yet 
— who  knows  ?  But,  certainly,  in  the  light  of  our  modem 
poverty  in  all  the  great  things  of  soul,  we  may  express  our 
hopelessness  "  till  the  Sj)irit  be  poured  out  from  on  high, 
and  the  wilderness  be  a  fi'uitful  field,  and  the  fruitful  field 
be  counted  for  a  forest.  Then  judgment  shall  dwell  m 
the  wilderness,  and  righteouness  remain  in  the  fi'uitful 
field." 

But,  if  Christ  is  the  great  power  of  God,  it  is  clear  that 
the  preaching  w^ill  be  the  j)ower  as  he  is  in  it.  Hence  I 
shall  have. to  beg  you  to  notice  how  different,  how  in- 
finitely different,  the  influence  and  the  effect  of  controversy 
in  the  pulpit,  to  conscience.  Polemics  have,  I  believe, 
never,  or  but  seldom,  been  power. 

I  have  heard  how  once  upon  a  time,  the  Chi'istian  faith 
heard  of  the  thi'eateniug  and  formidable  incursions  of  her 
foes,  so  she  determined  to  muster  her  preachers  and  teach- 
ers to  review  their  weapons,  and  she.  found  beyond  all  her 
expectations  every  thing  prepared.  There  was,  namely, 
a  vast  host  of  armed  men  ;  strong  tlu-eatening  foims, 
weapons  which  they  exercised  admirably,  brightly  flashing 


The  Pulpit  of  our  Age  and  Times.       33 

fi'om  afar.  But  as  she  camo  nearer  she  sank  ahnost  into 
a  swoon  ;  what  she  thought  ii'on  and  steel  were  toys  ; 
the  swords  were  made  of  the  mere  lead  of  words  ;  the 
breastplate  of  the  soft  linen  of  pleasure  ;  the  helmet,  of  the 
wax  of  plumed  vanity  ;  the  shields  of  papynis  scrolled  over 
with  opmions  ;  the  spears  thin  reeds  of  weak  conjecture  ; 
the  colors,  spiders'  webs  of  philosophical  systems  ;  the 
cannon,  Indian  reed  ;  the  powder,  poppy-seeds  ;  the  baUs, 
of  glass.  Through  the  indolent  neglect  of  their  leaders, 
they  had  sold  her  tme  weapons,  and  had  introduced 
these  ;  nay,  they  even  made  her  former  warriors,  whose 
armor,  faithfulness,  and  strength,  were  proved,  contempt- 
ible ;  bitterly  did  Religion  weep,  but  the  whole  assembly 
bid  her  be  of  good  cheer  ;  they  would  show  their  faith 
to  the  last  breath.  "What  avails  me,"  she  cried,  "your 
faith,  since  youi*  actions  are  worthless  ;  of  old,  when  I 
led  naked  unarmed  combatants  to  the  field,  one  martjT, 
one  wanior  faithful  to  death,  was  worth  more  to  me  than 
a  hundred  of  you  in  youi'  gilded  and  silvered  panoplies."* 

"  Quoted  from  Historical  Enquiry  into  the  TJieolony  of  Germany. 
By  E.  B.  Pusey,  M.A.,  1830. 


2* 


Pulpit  Monographs. 
I. — Frederick  Robertson. 


b^ 


DO  not  go  too  far,  I  believe,  in  saying  that  no 
preacher  has  so  touched  the  heai-t  of  the  thoughir 
fiil,  earnest  classes  of  our  day  ?  and  I  am  greatly 
mistaken  if  the  published  life  be  not  the  noblest 
scnnon  of  all ;  at  any  rate,  confidence  in  all  the  pre- 
vious printed  words  wiU  be  deepened  and  strengthened 
after  readuig  this  record  of  a  most  real  and  brave  battle. 
To  tlic  world  at  large,  Eobertson  did  not  speak  until  after 
liis  death  ;  only  one  sermon,  and  a  lectm-e  or  two  were 
published  while  he  hved.  The  peiiod  of  his  absolute  in- 
lluence  was  very  short ;  it  was  comprehended  within  the 
little  better  than  five  years  he  ministered  in  Biighton  :  he 
was  not  a  pulpit  star ;  was  unloiown  for  the  most  part 
away  from  home  ;  would  not  have  been  at  all  likely  to  have 
created  much  stir  by  his  name  in  any  town  to  whose 
clnu*ches  he  might  have  been  invited  to  preach  for  society 
purposes.  Li  Brighton,  while  he  stnick  down  to  the  very 
roots  of  the  reverence  of  those  who  knew  and  hstened  to 
him,  he  was  in  a  far  more  eminent  degree  the  target  for 
calumny,  sconi,  and  persecution  ;  his  chiu'ch  was  one  of 
the  poorest  and  most  obsciu-e  in  Brighton — only  about 
equal  to,  and  not  quite  so  handsome,  as  the  second-rate 
(34) 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Fi^ederick  Robertson,   nc 

dissenting  chapels  in  the  same  to^Ti ;  yet  from  that  town, 
and  that  httle  Trinity  Church,  went  forth  words  which,  for 
penetrating  and  searching  sweetness  and  strength,  for  sub- 
tle power  of  at  once  awakening  to  a  sense  of,  and  reconciling 
the  spirit  to,  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  have 
had  a  most  singular  influence. 

Frederick  William  Robertson  was  the  eldest  of  seven 
cliildi-en  ;  he  was  bom  Febniary  3rd,  1816.  He  came 
from  a  military  stock  ;  he  was  born  in  the  house  of  his 
grandfather.  Colonel  Robertson,  in  London.  His  father 
was  a  captain  in  the  Royal  Artillery ;  he  had  three 
brothers  all  military  men,  and  by  one  of  those  hah'breadth 
chances,  as  some  would  speak,  but  which  we  should  rather 
trace  to  "the  Divinity  which  shapes  our  ends,"  Robertson 
himself  escaped  the  Seventeenth  Dragoons.  Many  elements 
in  his  nature  compelled  him  tln-ough  all  his  after  life  to 
look  back,  not  um'egretfuUy,  to  this.  There  was  much  of 
the  soldier  in  him,  and  far  on,  when  nearly  at  the  end  of 
his  career,  he  writes,  how,  "  as  I  walked  home  in  my  dra- 
goon cloak,  I  thought  that  I  ought  to  be  at  this  moment 
lying  in  it  at  rest  at  Moodkee,  where  the  Third  fought  so 
gallantly,  and  where  spots  of  brighter  green  than  usual 
are  the  only  record  to  mark  where  the  flesh  of  heroes  is 
melting  into  its  kindred  dust  again."  I  have  heard  ex- 
pressions of  regTct  even  from  Chiistian  folk,  that  his  desire 
to  enter  the  army  was  dicaiDpointed-  I  cannot  understand 
the  feehng ;  sui'ely  however  gi-eat  a  soldier  may  be,  and 
however  mean  and  inferior  personall}^  many  ministers  are, 
the  knighthood  of  a  life  of  holy  earnest  endeavor  to  lift 
lives,  to  inspfre  them,  convei-t  them,  console  them,  to  make 
them  bravo  and  true,  must  be  greater  than  that  of  the 
mere  profession  of  arms. 

In  his  boyhood  he  was  a  wanderer.  The  first  five  years 
of  his  life  were  passed  in  Leith  Fort ;  then  his  father  left 
Leith,  and  settled,  on  half-pay,  at  Beverley,  in  Yorkshii-e. 


'^6  Karlfj  Faith  in  Prayer. 

Subsequently,  the  family  resided  at  Tom's — was  again  com- 
pcllcd  to  travel  homo,  by  the  revolution  which  broke  out 
in  1830.  At  sixlecu  years  of  age,  he  was  jDlaced  in  the 
New  Aciidemy,  EJinbiu'gh.  Notwithstanding  this  scattered 
existence,  be  seems  to  have  been  very  carefully  and  watch- 
fully trained,  and  the  almost  romantic  variety  of  impres- 
sions of  the  days  of  his  childhood  and  boyhood  always 
stood  out  with  gi'cat  distinctness  in  liis  niind.  I  can  well 
believe  how  fond  he  was  of  wandeiings  over  downs  and 
moors,  how  he  cherished  almost  a  passion  for  animals,  but 
csjiecially  for  birds.  The  fi'ame,  consumed  at  last  in  the 
intense  furnace  of  soul,  was,  as  a  boy's,  almost  iron  in  its 
stoutness  and  strength  ;  he  was  as  Carlyle  would  say,  "A 
I'adiant  behig  pulsmg  aiu'oras  ; "  animated,  too,  even  then, 
l)y  a  dreamy  brightness  of  chivah-y  and  yoimg  imagination 
in  which  the  lad  liked  to  conceive  himself  a  knight  seeking 
adventures,  and  redressmg  wi-ongs  ;  also,  there  is  proof  of 
the  possession  not  merely  of  a  fine  sensitiveness  of  nerve, 
but  of  a  dear  sense  of  duty  ;  a  fine  sense  also  of  devout- 
nees  and  reverence  there  must  have  been  in  him  :  i^rayer 
seems  to  have  been  quite  an  actual  fact  with  the  little  lad 
from  his  child's  days.  The  following  extract  from  a  letter 
"vrntten  when  in  Brighton  puts  the  mtonse  reality  of  the 
boy's  cai'ly  ix^hgious  feeling  in  a  strong  hght : 

I  rcmcm])cr  when  a  very,  very  young  boy,  going  out  shooting 
with  my  father,  and  pnij-ing,  as  often  as  the  dogs  came  to  a 
point,  that  he  might  kill  the  bird.  As  he  did  not  always  do 
this,  and  as  sometimes  there  would  occur  false  points,  my  heart 
got  bewildered.  I  ])elievc  I  began  to  doubt  sometimes  the 
cfllcacy  of  i)raycr,  sometimes  the  lawfulness  of  field  sporta, 
Once,  too,  I  recollect  when  I  was  taken  up  with  nine  other  boys 
at  school  to  be  unjustly  punished,  I  prayed  to  escape  the  shame. 
The  master,  previously  to  flogi^nng  all  the  others,  said  to  me,  to 
tlic  great  bewilderment  of  the  whole  school— "  Little  boy,  I 
excuse  you  ;  I  have  particular  reasons  for  it,"  and,  in  fact,  I  was 
never  fl()i,'f^'('(l  during  the  three  years  I  nns  at  that  school.    That 


Pulpit  Monograplis:  Frederick  Itohertson.   37 

incident  settled  my  mind  for  a  long  time  ;  only  I  doubt  whether 
it  did  me  any  good,  for  prayer  became'  a  charm.  I  fancied  my- 
self the  favorite  of  the  Invisible.  I  knew  that  I  carried  about 
a  talisman  unknown  to  others  %vhich  would  save  me  from  al! 
harm.  It  did  not  make  me  better ;  it  simply  gave  me  security, 
as  the  Jew  felt  safe  in  being  the  descendant  of  Abraham,  or  went 
into  battle  under  the  protection  of  the  Ark,  sinning  no  less  all 
the  time. 

Many  years  afterwards,  vv^ben  only  taking  part  at  a  de- 
bate in  Oxford,  at  the  Union,  wdien  a  young  student,  be 
was  about  to  denounce  the  moral  tendenc}^  of  the  theatre  ; 
before  he  spoke  he  w\^s  quite  nervous  ;  his  friend,  after- 
wards the  Rev.  Mr.  Davis,  Vicar  of  Tewkesbuiy,  ^vas  sitting 
next  to  him,  Robertson  pressed  his  knee,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear,  ''-Davis,  pray  for  me  I "  But  before  reaching  Ox- 
ford he  passed  through  several  phases  of  possible  destiny 
in  life  ;  for  a  httle  time  he  was  in  a  lawyer's  office  ;  tills 
he  utterly  detested  and  abominated ;  his  heart  yearned 
towards  the  army.  "I  w^as  rocked  and  cradled,"  he  writes, 
"  in  the  roar  of  artillery,  and  the  very  name  of  such  things 
sounds  to  me  hke  home  ; "  but  his  father  very  naturally 
thought  that  his  character  and  deep  rehgious  feehng  well 
fitted  him  for  the  Church,  and  he  proposed  this  to  him  as 
a  profession  ;  his  answer  w^as  decisive,  "  Anytliing  but 
that,  I'm  not  fit  for  it."  And  there  seemed  a  difficulty  in 
his  entering  the  ai-my,  but  his  mother's  family  having 
some  influence  with  the  king,  his  name  was  x^ut  do\\Ti  on 
the  Hst  for  a  cavahy  regiment  sci-ving  in  India.  He  was 
enraptured,  and  immediately  set  to  work  to  prepare  for 
that  profession.  Before  his  departure  for  India,  he  made 
the  acquaintance,  appai'ently  in  a  most  casual  maimer,  of 
Mr.  Davis,  whose  name  we  have  just  mentioned ;  the 
casual  acquaintance  changed  the  whole  cmTent  and  coiu'se 
of  Ills  hfe.  It  could  not  be  expected  that  such  a  change 
could  happen  to  a  man  hke  Robertson  without  its  prodiio- 


o8     The  Barhing  of  a  Dog  Changes  a  Life. 

inj^  fi  .sin;]jiil;ir  impression  upon  bis  mind — in  fact,  it  came 
aboid  from  ihr  JxirJcinr)  of  a  dog.  Lady  Trench  resided  next 
door  to  Captain  Robertson  ;  she  bad  a  daughter  seriously 
ill ;  the  young  lady  was  prevented  from  sleeping  by  the 
barking  of  Captain  Robertson's  dog.  The  families  were 
strangers  to  each  other,  but  Lady  Trench  wrote  to  beg  that 
the  dog  might  be  removed  ;  the  dog  was  not  only  removed, 
but  in  so  kind  and  acquiescent  a  manner  that  Lady  Trench 
called  to  express  her  thanks.  She  was  so  much  struck 
with  the  bcarmg  of  the  eldest  son,  that  an  mtimacy  sprang 
up  between  the  famihes,  which  resulted  in  the  introduction 
of  young  Robertson  to  some  of  Lady  Trench's  clerical  friends; 
one  of  them,  Mr.  Daly,  now  Bishop  of  Cashel,  was  no  sooner 
introduced  than  he  struck  at  the  question  whether  it  were 
definitely  fixed  that  he  should  go  into  the  army  ;  the  im- 
pression of  his  unaffected  piety  con\dncing  ^Ir.  Daly  that 
he  ought  to  be  in  the  church.  It  seems  to  have  been  an 
amazing  self-sacrifice  to  Robertson,  but  so  it  came  about, 
that  to  the  barking  of  a  dog  we  probably  owe  those 
wealthy  volumes  of  fine  instinctive  teaching  and  exhorta- 
tion. There  is  an  extract  fi'om  one  of  his  posthimious 
papers  showmg  how  deeply  this  circumstance  impressed 
him  ;  he  is  speaking  of  his  favorite  theorv%  that  all  gi-eat 
truths  confiist  of  two  opposites  which  are  not  conti'a- 
dictoiy  : — 

"  All  is  free,"  he  says,—"  that  is  false ;  all  is  fated— that  is 
false.  All  things  are  free  and  fated — that  is  true.  I  cannot 
overthrow  the  argument  of  the  man  who  says  that  everything 
is  fated,  or,  in  other  words,  that  God  orders  all  things,  and  can- 
not change  that  order.  If  I  had  not  met  a  certain  person,  I 
should  not  have  changed  my  profession  :  if  I  had  not  known  a 
certain  lady,  I  should  not  i)robably  have  met  this  person :  if 
that  lady  had  not  had  a  delicate  daughter  who  was  disturbed 
by  the  barking  of  my  dog;  if  my  dog  had  not  barked  that 
night,  I  should  now  have  been  in  the  Dragoons,  or  fertilising 
the   soil  of  India.     Who  c;in    say  tliat   these    things  were  not 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Frederick  RolerUon.   30 

ordered,  and  that,  apparently,  the  merest  trifles  did  not  produce 
failure  and  a  marred  existence  ? " 

So  he  went  to  Oxford  ;  and  he  was  studpng  in  Oxford 
dm-ing  a  great  period  of  its  history,  when  Dr.  Newman 
was  in  the  full  heat  and  excitement  of  his  influence  there. 
The  strong  reaction  of  Eobertson's  mind  against  Koman- 
izing,  Puseyistic,  and  High  Church  influence  rendered  him, 
we  believe,  unconscious  to  the  almost  involuntary  power 
Newman's  mind  had  over  him.  But  we  think  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  run  over  the  pages  of  those  admirable  and  most 
extraordinary  sermons,  heard  those  days  within  the  walls 
of  St.  Mary's,  and  Littlemore,  without  feeling  that,  proba- 
bty,  more  to  Newman  than  to  any  other  teacher,  Frederick 
Kobertson  was  indebted  for  the  first  seeds  of  his  peculiar 
thought.  Two  scenes  also  in  Oxford  impressed  him  much  : 
while  he  was  there,  he  heard  Arnold  of  Rugby  give  his 
well  known  Lectures  on  History,  when  all  that  was  bril- 
liant, wise,  or  distinguished,  thronged  the  University 
Theatre  in  order  to  hsten  ;  a  still  more  sublime  sight  he 
saw  when  the  patriarch,  Wordsworth,  was  introduced  by 
John  Keble  to  receive  his  honorary  degree.  There  were 
wonderful  tempests  of  acclamations,  and  the  lesson  in 
either  iustance,  to  one  able  to  receive  it,  would  be  the 
same,  of  gladness  in  the  hour  of  triumph,  and  sjTnpathy 
with  those  who  had  loved  these  men  when  the  world  de- 
spised them.  Like  Newman  himself,  he  seems  to  have 
entered  the  University  either  as  an  evangelical,  or  with 
strong  tendencies  to  evangehcahsm ;  he  narrowly  escaped 
Newmanism,  and  for  ourselves  w^e  marvel — it  is  to  us  even 
almost  a  psychological  puzzle — how  one  constituted  as  he 
was,  could  have  escaped  that  strong  influence. 

"We  hurry  along  through  those  clays,  o^opresscd  even 
then  by  an  early  and  prematui'e  sadness  of  heaii,  not 
wanting  in  brightness,  college  fiiendships,  and  in  that 
which  we  should  suppose  always  most  essential  to  "Robert- 


40  Spiritual  Life  at  Winchester, 

soil,  tlic  possibility  of  companionship  with  pui'e  and  noble 
women  ;  so  he  says  at  that  time,  "  the  woof  of  life  is  dark, 
but  it  is  shot  with  a  wai-p  of  gold."  His  first  work  as  a 
l^astor  was  at  Winchester,  and  he  seems  to  have  worked 
well.  He  says  he  was  conscious  of  ha\dng  developed  his 
mind  and  character  more  truly,  and  with  more  fidelity,  at 
"Winchester  than  anywhere  ;  there  he  led  a  hfe  apparently 
of  much  austerity ;  he  was  but  a  cm-ate — rather,  we  be- 
heve,  a  deacon — and  his  income  probably  was  but  very 
small.  He  submitted  to  austerities  not  merely  for  the 
puii^ose  of  keeping  himself  imder,  but  that  he  might  have 
more  money  to  s^oare  for  the  poor.  He  established  a  sys- 
tem of  restraint  in  food  and  sleej) ;  for  nearly  twelve 
months  he  denied  himself  the  use  of  meat ;  he  compelled 
himself  to  rise  early  ;  he  inspired  hunself  by  the  lives  of 
Henry  Mart^Ti  and  David  Brainerd.  When  he  was  at 
Brighton  he  turned  back  with  envious  feelings  to  the 
peace  of  his  mind  in  the  obscure  Winchester  days.  iVlso, 
as  tlie  httle  lad  had  prayed  in  earnest  before  the  temble 
school-master,  with  much  more  intensity  of  earnestness 
prayed  the  young  minister  now.  He  dishked  forms  of 
prayer,  yet  he  felt  the  necessity  of  them  to  sustain  the 
spirituid  life  witliin  him  ;  and  here  is  a  prayer  he  wrote 
when  at  Oxford,  and  used  when  at  Winchester — ^how  very 
real  and  earnest  it  is !  There  is  something  very  touching 
in  readuig  these  lines — disentombed  from  among  his  papers 
— record  of  the  wild  beating  heart  that  Imew  its  danger 
autl  wanted  its  Saviour : 

"Tlie  cuemy  Ims  come  iu  like  a  flood.  We  look  for  thy 
promises.  Do  Thou  lift  up  a  standard  against  him.  O  Lord, 
here  in  Oxford,  we  believe  that  he  is  poisoning  the  streams 
which  are  to  water  Thy  church  at  their  source.  Pardon  us  if 
we  err.  Oli,  lead  us  into  all  truth.  But,  O  our  God,  if  we  are 
not  mistaken,  if  the  li^ht  wliich  is  in  us  is  darkness — how  great 
is  that  darkness!     Lighten    our  darknc^;s   iu    this    University 


Pulpit  Monograplts :  Frederick  JloherUon.  a\ 

"with  the  pure  and  glorious  light  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Help, 
Lord,  for  the  faithful  are  miuishcd  from  among  the  children  of 
men.  My  Father,  I  am  like  a  child,  l)lown  about  by  every  ^vind 
of  doctrine.  How  long  shall  I  walk  in  a  vain  shadow,  and 
disquiet  myself  in  vain  ?  Let  not  my  inconsistent,  selfish  con- 
duct be  a  pretext  for  blasphemy  against  Thy  saints  and  persist- 
ing in  heresy.     Hear  me,  my  Lord  and  Master." 

Also,  in  his  o"\vn  mind,  he  set  apart  in  those  days  particu- 
lar days  to  pray  for  particular  things.  It  is,  perhaps,  clear, 
that  he  was  in  the  period  of  his  apprenticeship,  becoming 
an  individual,  scarcely  an  individual  yet.  He  seems  to 
have  worked  hard  in  his  parish,  but  all  his  work  dissatis- 
fied liim  ;  he  even  quotes  and  applies  to  himself  Bp'on's 
well  known  lines — ^but  perhaps  we  may  read  in  the  com- 
plamt  a  proj)hecy  rather  of  what  he  became  :  — 

As  it  is,  I  live  and  die  unheard, 

With  a  most  voiceless  thought,  sheathing  it  as  a  sword. 

And  when  his  sister  died,  he  speaks  of  "  longing  to  share 
her  quiet  shi'oud  and  her  departure  to  be  with  Chi'ist." 
But  it  was  about  the  year  1840 — when  by  the  death  of  his 
rector  there  came  an  end  to  his  curacy  at  Winchester — ^he 
was  qmckened  into  a  new  hfe  by  a  continental  torn*. 
Geneva  fascinated  hhn  ;  his  letters  from  tlie  Hotel  de  la 
Couronne  show,  too,  that  objective  theology  had  laid  hold 
upon  him,  and  from  the  exercises  of  a  holy  hfe  he  was 
now  re\iewing  more  clearly  the  successive  strata  of  relig- 
ious opinion.  He  tlirew  himself  into  his  new  field  of  work 
at  Cheltenham  \\dth  his  whole  energy — his  private  journals 
reveal  the  holy  hfe  of  the  man — reading  indeed  admirable 
books — Dante,  German  metaphj^sics,  Niebuhi*,  and  Guizot ; 
but  also  marshalling  himself  especially  to  self-denial  in 
eating.  He  says  in  his  journal,  "  It  is  a  paltry  trial  for  a 
child  of  glory  to  fall  in,  it  is  a  base  return  for  the  washing 
of  the  blood  of  Ciirist."  Also  in  discipUnmg  himself  in 
early  rising,  because  "it  gives  calmncsr,  to  the  day;  lato 


A  2  liesolves  at  CJtelicnham. 

rising  i.s  the  prelude  to  a  day  in  wliich  everything  seems  to 
go  wrong."  I  am  very  well  aware  of  the  pie-crusty  charac- 
ter of  good  resolution  and  mles  ;  but  perhaps  Robertson 
found  it  easier  to  obey  them  than  some  of  us  have  found. 
Surely  the  following  resolves  in  so  young  a  minister  exhibit 
a  painfully  earnest  and  exemplar}^  conscience  : — 


Bcsolces. — To  try  to  learn  to  Ijc  thoroughly  poor  in  spirit, 
meek,  and  to  be  ready  to  be  silent  when  others  speak. 

To  learn  from  every  one. 

To  try  to  feel  my  own  insignificance. 

To  believe  in  myself,  and  the  powers  with  wliich  I  am  in- 
trusted. 

To  try  to  make  conversation  more  useful,  and  therefore  to 
store  my  mind  with  facts,  yet  to  be  on  my  guard  against  a  wish 
to  shine. 

To  try  to  despise  the  principle  of  the  day,  "  every  man  his 
own  trumpeter ;  and  to  feel  it  a  degradation  to  speak  of  my  own 
doings  as  a  poor  ])raggart." 

To  endeavor  to  get  over  the  adulterous-gcncration-habit  of 
seeking  a  sign.  I  want  a  loud  voice  from  Heaven  to  tell  me  a 
thing  is  wrong,  whereas  a  little  experience  of  its  results  is 
enough  to  prove  that  God  is  against  it.  It  docs  not  cohere  with 
the  everlasting  laws  of  the  universe. 

To  speak  less  of  self,  and  think  less. 

To  aim  at  more  concentration  of  thought. 

To  try  to  overcome  castle-building. 

To  be  systematic  in  visiting;  and  to  make  myself  master  of 
Bome  system  of  questions  for  ascertaining  the  state  of  the  poor. 

To  listen  to  conscience,  instead  of,  as  Pilate  did,  to  intellect. 

To  try  to  fix  attention  on  Christ,  rather  than  on  the  doctrines 
of  Christ. 

To  preserve  inviolable  secresy  on  all  secrets  committed  to  mc, 
especially  on  any  confidential  communication  of  spiritual  per- 
])U'xities. 

To  take  dccj)  interest  in  the  difiiculties  of  others  so  com- 
municated. 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Frederick  Holertson.   43 

To  perform  rigorously  the  examcn  of  conscience. 

To  try  to  fix  my  thoughts  in  prayer  witliout  distraction. 

To  contend,  one  by  one,  against  evil  thoughts. 

To  watch  over  a  growing  habit  of  uncharitable  judgment. 

His  mind,  on  many  matters,  was  undergoing  change  ; 
fi'om  some  cause  in  those  years  which  w^e  might  have 
thought  would  have  looked  bright  to  him,  he  was  still 
racked  by  moral  suffering.  He  writes  to  a  lad}^  "  What 
worthy  crown  can  any  son  of  man  wear  upon  this  earth 
except  a  crown  of  thorns."  And  there  is  abundant  e\'i- 
dence  that  some  gnawing  disappointment  was  plaiting  for 
him  a  crown  of  thorns  ;  partly,  perhaps,  this  arose  fi'om 
an  intense  religious  disgust  which  began  to  possess  him  ; 
he  found  the  religious  hfe  in  Cheltenham  so  widely  differ- 
ent fi'om  the  simple  spiiitual  life  he  had  seen  among  his 
poor  parishioners  in  Winchester.  He  was  separating 
himself  fi'om  evangelicism  ;  even  then  he  began  to  say 
severe  things  about  the  evangelicals  ;  "  They  teU  hes  in 
the  name  of  God,  and  others  tell  lies  in  the  name  of  the 
devil,  that  is  all  the  difference,"  he  says.  He  soon  relin- 
quished his  charge  at  Cheltenham  ;  his  health  began  to 
fail,  and  for  some  time  we  find  him  on  the  Continent, 
doing  duty  at  Heidelbui'g  ;  retui-ning,  the  Bishop)  of  Cal- 
cutta offered  him  a  chaplaincy  in  his  diocese,  with  the 
promise  of  a  canomy  ;  he  did  not,  however,  now  desii-e  to 
leave  home.  He  placed  hunself  at  the  disposal  of  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford,  and  he  offered  him  the  charge  of  St. 
Ebbe's  in  the  city  of  Oxford.  It  has  been  supposed  from 
his  connection  with  the  Bishop  of  Oxford,  that  at  this  time 
he  sympathised  with  the  views  of  the  High  Church  party  : 
but, 

"  Before  my  son,"  writes  Capt.  Eol)ertson,  "  went  to  St.  Ebbe's, 
he  saw  the  Bishop  in  London,  and  frankly  told  him  that  he  did 
not  hold,  and  therefore  could  not  preach,  the  doctrine  of  linptis- 


44  Goe^  to  Brigliton. 

mal  Regeneration.  The  Bishop  replied,  "I  give  my  clergy  a 
large  circle  to  work  in,  and  if  they  do  not  step  beyond  that  I 
do  not  interfere.  I  shall  be  glad,  however,  to  hear  your  ^'iews 
on  the  subject,"  An  hour's  conversation  followed,  and  at  the 
close  his  lordship  said,  "  Well,  Mr.  Robertson,  you  have  well 
maintained  your  position,  and  I  renew  my  offer.'  It  was  at  once 
accepted.*' 

In  fact,  Robertson  had  no  sympathy  vrith  the  views  of 
the  High  Church  party,  but  great  sympathy  with  the  men 
holding  these  views.  Clearly  and  naturally  he  had  more 
fellowship  of  heart  with  them  than  with  the  men  of  the 
evangehcal  pai-ty.  He  utterly  distrusted  and  re^^udiated 
their  views  on  baptism,  and  perhaps  did  them  but  scant 
justice  ;  nor  can  I  see  that  he  thought  unfairly  or  un- 
righteously if  he  regarded  the  Becord  as  embodjing  and 
exhibiting  not  only  their  sentiments  but  theu'  character. 
The  Becord  was  always  Robertson's  aversion  ;  it  soon 
became  his  bitter  and  malicious  foe.  While  thus  his  mind 
w^as  veering  between  these  two  extremes  of  his  church,  and 
cutting  its  own  way  through  tempest  and  fogs  into  seas 
unquestionably  lightful  and  peacciid  to  hmi,  if  not  alto- 
getlier  the  region  of  the  happy  isles,  Trinity  Chapel, 
Brighton,  vacant  by  the  retirement  of  ]Mi'.  Kennaway,  was 
offered  to  him.  He  considered  himself  pledged  hy  having 
accepted  St.  Ebbe's  fi'om  the  Bishop  of  Oxford,  and  refused 
at  once  ;  the  Bishoji,  however,  gave  his  consent  to  the 
trustees,  Lord  Teignmouth,  Rev.  James  Anderson,  and 
!Mr.  Thornton,  to  open  theu'  negotiations  with  him  again  ; 
the  result  was,  that  in  the  August  of  18-47,  he  became  the 
minister  of  Trinity  Chapel  Brighton,  the  scene  of  his  last 
biief  pastorate,  of  his  most  collected  energies.  In  each  of 
the  other  spots  of  his  ministry,  we  have  seen  hun  more 
especially  engaged  in  educating  hunself,  and  fcehng  his 
own  way  ;  henceforth  there  is  no  hesitancy ;  whether 
lKK)plo  hked  the  sound  of  the  '*  trumpet"  or  not ;  one  thing 


Pulpit  Monogra])! IS :  Frederick  Robertson,   ac 

is  certain,  it  gave  no  "uncertain  sound."  He  rightly  ai> 
preciated  upon  his  entrance  into  the  town  the  career  of 
difficulty  before  him.  It  was  a  sphere,  to  a  nature  hkc 
his,  so  conscious  and  sensitive,  at  the  same  time  so 
hmnblo,  earnest  and  real,  fuU  of  besetting  paius.  A 
watering-place  can  never  fiiiTiish  to  any  well- constituted 
mind  a  happy  pastorate.  Usually,  the  ministers  of  water- 
Lag  places  are  those  whom  Robertson  himself  satirized  as 
"  never  being  able  to  forget  the  diill  and  pipe-clay  of  their 
profession,  and  speak  with  a  hving  heart  to  the  suffering 
classes."  Usually,  the  ideal  minister  in  such  places  is 
"not  one  of  the  same  fiesli  and  blood,  vindicatuig  a 
common  humanity,  but  a  policeman  estabh'shed  to  lecture 
the  suffering  hito  j^ropnety."  His  Cheltenham  education 
had  a  htlle  enlightened  him  as  to  the  difficulties  he  would 
meet  with  here,  but  he  threw  himseK  ardently  into  his 
w^ork ;  he  lived  in  Brighton,  lived  for  Brighton  ;  Trinity 
Chapel  and  its  work  instantly  became  the  one  absorbing 
object  of  his  thought  and  endeavor.  Scarcely,  indeed,  had 
he  entered  upon  his  labor  than  he  lost  his  little  daughter. 
One  of  his  first  letters  speaks  of  his  "  perfectly  beautiful 
little  thiQg,"  and  of  his  "retumiag  from  putting  my  httle 
beautiful  one  myself  into  her  grave,  after  a  last  look  at  her 
calm,  placid  countenance  lying  in  her  coffin.  It  was  by 
starlight,  with  only  the  sexton  present  ;  but  it  was  more 
congenial  to  my  heart  to  bmy  her  so  than  m  the  midst  of 
a  crowd,  in  the  glaiing  dayhght,  vrith  the  service  gabbled 
over  her."  The  following  passages,  apparently  from  a 
journal,  indicate  the  sphit  and  resolve  with  which  he 
entered  upon  his  work  hi  his  new  field  : — 

1.  I  want  two  things — habit  of  order  and  de  suite.  I  begin 
many  things  and  re-begin,  each  time  with  greater  disrelish  and 
self-distrust.  At  last,  Hfe  Vv'ill  be  a  broken  series  of  unfinished 
enterprises. 

Hence.  I  must  resolve  to  finish  :  and  to  do  this,  I  must  not 


A  6  3Ilniderlal  Introspections. 

uii'lcrtakc,  till  I  have  well  weighed,  e.  g.  I  will  not  now  give  up 
(lernijin.  I  ^^ill  study  Scripture-books  thoroughly  through,  his- 
tories sei)arately  and  tlioroughly. 

I  ain  conscious  of  having  developed  my  mind  and  character 
more  truly,  and  with  more  fidelity  at  Winchester  than  anywhere. 
Looking  back  I  think  I  perceive  reasons  for  this.  First,  I  went 
out  little :  hence,  perfected  what  I  undertook  before  fresh 
impulses  started  up  to  destroy  the  novelty  and  interest  of  the 
impulse  already  set  in  motion.  It  came  to  its  limit  unexhausted, 
c  fj.  in  studying  Edwards. 

Hence,  I  think,  it  will  be  wise  at  Brighton  to  go  out  little ; 
and  even  to  exercise  self-denial  in  this.  But  I  will  not  commit 
myself  to  any  plan  by  expressed  resolve.  I  have  now  only  a  few 
years  to  live. 

;>[y  danger  is  excitability — even  in  Scripture  conversations 
was  it  not  so  ?  This  makes  me  effeminate,  irresolute,  weak  in 
character — led  by  circumstances,  not  bending  them  by  strong 
will  to  my  own  plan  and  puqiose.  Therefore,  I  must  seek  calm 
in  regular  duty,  avoiding  desultory  reading — desultory  visits. 

2.  Artljicial  excellences. — Goodness  demands  a  certain  degree 
of  nerve,  impulse,  sudden  inspiration.  Characters  too  much 
trained  miss  these.  8ome  turn  their  eyes  perpetually  on  self  in 
I)ainful  self  examination.  Suspicion  destroys  the  elan  of  virtue, 
its  freshness,  grace,  beauty  and  spontaneousness.  Artificial 
merits  are  like  artificial  flowers — scentless.  Cultivate  natural 
and  not  unnatural  excellences. 

3.  Explanations  are  bad  things.  You  preserve  your  own 
dignity  by  not  entering  into  them.  The  character  which  cannot 
defend  itself  is  not  worth  defending. 

4.  il/y  mind  is  difficult  to  get  into  activity.  Therefore,  in 
order  to  i)ropare  for  speaking,  preaching,  t^-c,  it  is  good  to  take 
a  stirring  book,  even  if  not  directly  touching  upon  the  subject 
in  hand.  Love  is  all  with  mc.  Mental  power  comes  from 
interest  in  a  subject.  AVhat  I  have  to  set  in  motion  is  some 
grand  notion— such  as  duty,  beauty,  time  in  its  rapid  flight,  «S:c. 

.\lso  ho  feU,  with  a  tnic  prescntiinciit,  that  his  work 
would  kill  him  in  a  few  yoai'S,  and  he  determined  to  crowd 
as  much  as  possible  into  tliose  few.     Scai'cely  had  he  com- 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Frederick  RoherUon.  47 

rnenced  his  work,  when,  as  oiir  readers  will  remember,  in 
the  February  of  1848,  the  waves  of  the  great  European 
revolution  broke  forth  in  Paris,  and  rolled  over  the  nations 
of  Eiu'ope.  Eobertson  was  one  of  those,  natui-ally,  who 
sprung  uj)  as  if  inspired  by  what  he,  perhaps,  too  i:>recipi- 
tately  regarded  as  a  "bridal  dawn  of  thunder  peals."  His 
utterances  and  sentiments  created  more  attention,  possibly, 
than  sympathy ;  but  they  gathered  round  him  a  number 
of  persons  of  hberal  sentiment,  and  his  strong  s^TQjDathies 
with  liberty,  and  esjDecially  freedom  of  thought,  and  his 
fellowship  with  the  w^orking  classes,  and  gi'ief  for  their 
condition  in  England,  and  in  other  nations,  made  him  well 
known,  and  proportionately  slandered  and  misunderstood. 
Robertson,  unhke  Kingsley  and  Mamice,  had  no  sympathy 
whatever  with  any  kind  of  socialistic  or  communistic 
theory ;  he,  with  gi-eat  respect,  declined  the  fellowship  of 
opinion.  Yet  the  Record  newspaper  not  only  raised  the 
cry  of  sociahsm  against  him,  but  continued  to  reiterate  it 
after  his  disavowal,  and  loudly  reasserted  the  charge  after 
his  death.  There  seem  to  have  been  favorable  cu'cmn- 
stances,  partly  created  by  the  events  of  the  time,  and 
undoubtedly  responded  to  by  his  own  spirit,  which  made 
Robertson  especially  a  centre  of  attraction  to  a  large 
number  of  the  working  classes  in  Brighton.  He  became 
the  animating  brain  and  heart  of  an  Institute  nmnbering 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  himdi-ed  members.  And  even  in 
his  life  seeds  of  dissension  began  to  bring  forth  fi'uit,  as  is 
manifest  in  the  strong  discussion  upon  the  proposition  to 
admit  infidel  books  into  the  libraiy  of  the  Working  Men's 
Association.  His  biographer  gives  a  striking  and  gi*apliic 
pictm^e  of  his  appearance  in  the  Town  Hall  to  opjoose  the 
introduction  of  such  works.  A  large  number  of  sceptical 
socialists  had  come  prepared  to  hoot  him  do^^Ti : — 

lie  began  very  quietly,  with  aslov/,  distinct,  and  self-restrained 


48    The  Fulpit  must  not  he  ''Coward's  Castle:' 

utterance.  He  explained  the  reason  of  the  meeting.  When 
l)c  spoke  of  himself  as  the  person  who  had  summoned  them — 
as  one  who  was  there  to  oppose  the  introduction  of  the  infidel 
books,  knots  of  men  started  up  to  interrupt  him  ;  a  few  hisses 
and  groans  were  heard  ;  but  the  undaunted  bearing  of  the  man, 
the  calm  Toice  and  musical  flow  of  pauseless  speech,  powerful 
to  check  unregulated  violence  by  its  own  regulated  quietude  of 
utterance,  went  on,  and  they  could  but  sit  down  again.  Again 
and  again,  from  dilTerent  parts  of  the  room,  a  man  would  sud- 
denly spring  to  his  feet  and  half  begin  to  speak,  and  then,  as  if 
ashamed  or  awed,  subside.  There  were  murmurs,  passionate 
shuffling  of  feet,  a  sort  of  electricity  of  excitement,  which  com- 
municated itself  from  the  excited  men  to  every  one  in  the  room. 
At  last,  when  he  said,  ''  You  have  heard  of  a  place  called 
Coward's  Castle— Coward's  Castle  is  that  pulpit  or  platform, 
from  which  a  man  surrounded  by  his  friends,  in  the  absence 
of  his  opponents,  secure  of  applause,  and  safe  from  a  reply, 
denounces  those  who  differ  from  him,"  there  was  a  dead  still- 
ness. He  had  struck  the  thought  of  the  turbulent — the  very 
point  on  which,  in  reference  to  the  address,  they  had  enlarged  ; 
and  from  that  moment  there  was  not  a  word,  scarcely  a  clieer, 
till  the  last  sentence  was  given.  It  seemed,  said  one  of  them, 
and  what  he  said  was  confirmed  by  others,  as  if  every  man  in 
the  room  were  thrilling  with  the  same  feelings,  as  if  a  magnetic 
power  flowing  from  the  speaker  had  united  them  all  to  himself, 
and  in  him  to  one  another.  The  address  was  the  most  re- 
markable of  all  his  speeches  for  eloquence,  if  eloquence  be  de- 
fined as  the  power  of  subjugating  men  by  bold  and  persuasive 
words.  It  was  remarkable  for  two  other  reasons  which  may 
not  occur  to  the  ordinary  reader.  First,  in  it  he  revealed  much 
of  his  inner  life  and  character.  lie  was  forced  by  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  made  the  address  to  speak  of  himself. 
The  personal  cx])lanations  into  which  he  entered  were  an  overt 
Hclf-revclation.  But  there  was  one  passage  in  the  address  in 
which,  without  the  knowledge  of  his  henrers,  he  disclosed  the 
history  of  the  most  momentous  period  of  his  life. 

To  speak  in  a  provincial  town-hall  to  an  orJinary  meet- 
ing of  a  thousand  persons  is  an  event  common  enongli ;  but 


Pulpit  Mono(jva])lis:  Frederich  Rohertson.  49 

the  tact  of  Robertson's  speech  on  that  evening  ;  his  power- 
ful subjugation  of  his  blatant  antagonists,  especially  by  his 
clever  allusion  to  "  Coward's  Castle  ; "  the  touching  reve- 
lation of  the  history  of  liis  own  mind,  and  what  dark 
thoughts  had  been  to  him  ;  the  reverence  with  which  he 
treated  himself,  and  the  perfectly  overwhelming  reverence 
with  which  he  spoke  of  his  Sa^dour — "  I  refuse  to  peimit 
discussion  this  evening  respecting  the  love  a  Christian  man 
bears  to  his  Redeemer — a  love  more  dehcate  far  than  the 
love  which  was  ever  borne  to  sister  ;  or  the  adoration  with 
which  he  regards  his  God — a  reverence  more  sacred  than 
man  ever  bore  to  mother  ; "  then  the  fi-ee,  unclerical  ap- 
pearance of  the  man  in  his  black  cravat,  hurhng  back  the 
charge  of  infidelity,  "  I  have  learned  to  hold  the  mere 
charge  of  infidehty  very  cheap  ; "  his  fine  exj)ressions  of 
pity  over  Shelley,  his  defence  of  the  works  of  Dickens  and 
their  moral  significance  ; — altogether  we  heartily  envy  those 
who  had  the  opportunity  of  beiug  in  that  packed  haU  that 
evening  ;  and  we  suppose  his  appearance  is  w^orthy  of  be- 
iug  mentioned  as  one  of  the  most  astonishing  and  effective 
pieces  of  popular  eloquence  in  our  day.  The  Society  in 
connection  with  which  it  was  called  together,  continued  in 
existence  a  short  time  after  his  death  ;  but  it  has  long  siuce 
fallen  to  pieces  for  want  of  support.  He  soon  found  that 
by  a  course  of  conduct  hke  this,  however,  he  was  before  the 
bar  of  what  he  called  the  "  Brighton  Inquisition  for  her- 
etics ; "  in  truth,  he  was  m  a  region  eminently  imfavorable 
to  freedom  of  thought  and  expression. 

Our  preacher  came  into  an  unpleasant  world  of  things. 
It  was  late  in  his  ministry  that  he  wrote,  "  I  do  dishko 
Biighton  ;  but  it  is  my  present  sphere,  and  I  must  make 
the  best  of  it.  The  ministry  is  nowhere  a  bed  of  roses,  and 
if  there  was  so  delectable  a  spot,  it  is  not  open  to  me  to 
change  to,  instead  of  this."  Soon  after  his  setthng  I  find 
him  regretting  that  his  life  was  not  passed  in  the  risk  and 
3  # 


ro       The  Unpleasant  World  of  Brigliton, 

excitement  even  of  Kaffir  kncl— "  more  real  than  the  being 
badj^'cred  by  old  maids  of  both  sexes  in  a  place  like  Bright- 
onf  He  aimed  to  l^e  true ;  "  What  is  tmth  ? "  he  says, 
"  the  path  to  the  pilloiy  of  ridicule."  I  thmk  had  his  heai-t 
not  been  so  sore  from  some  unprobed  wounds,  he  perhaps, 
would  not  have  spoken  thus.  I  honor  the  manliness  of 
Robei-tson  ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  not  so  much  with  refer- 
ence to  him  tha,t  I  say  I  have  little  sympathy  with  senti- 
mental me^\ing  and  pecking  over  either  want  of  excite- 
ment, or  deteriorated  character,  or  imromantic  scenery. 
Eobei-tson,  however,  hke  some  sweetly-shining  and  pendu- 
lous dcw-di'op,  transparent  and  refi*esliing,  lias  a  world  of 
awful  and  daring  lightnings  in  him,  and  the  disagreeable 
l^eople  ^^ith  whom  he  met,  we  expect  caught  a  scathing 
sometimes.  Thus,  one  INIonday  mormng,  an  elderly  gentle- 
man of  evangelical  and  asmine  prochvities  waited  upon 
him,  inti'oducing  himself  by  sa}dng  he  had  been  of  great 
service  to  young  clergymen : — 

He  arraigned  tlie  sermon  he  had  heard  in  Trinity  Cliapel  tbe 
day  before ;  spoke  of  dangerous  views  and  tbe  impetuosity  of 
young  men  ;  offered  himself  as  a  weekly  monitor,  and  enumer- 
ated in  conclusion,  the  perils  and  inconveniences  to  which  pop- 
ular preachers  were  subject.  Mr.  Robertson,  who  bad  remained 
silent,  at  last  arose,  "  Really,  Sir,"  he  said,  sternly,  "  the  only  in- 
convenience I  have  experienced  in  being  what  you  are  pleased 
to  call  me,  a  popular  preacher,  is  intmsion  like  tbe  present ; " 
and  he  bowed  his  censor  out  of  the  room. 

Another  day,  a  lady,  with  whom  he  was  slightly  acquainted, 
assailed  him  for  "  heterodox  opinions,"  and  menaced  him  with 
the  consequences  which  in  this  world  and  the  next  would  follow 
on  the  course  of  action  he  was  pursuing.  His  only  answer  was, 
"  I  don't  care."  "  Do  you  know  what  '  Don't  Care '  came  to 
sir  ? "  "  Yes,  madam,"  was  the  grave  reply,  '*  He  was  crucified 
on  Calvary." 

Anecdotes  like  those  reveal  at  once  his  weakness  as  wcU 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Frederick  Rohertson.    r  \ 

as  his  strength.  He  had  a  flashmg,  vehement,  and  I  sup- 
pose, even  a  cruel  scorn  for  all  that  looked  hke  cant,  simu- 
lation, or  imi-eahty.  Moreover,  he  was  too  real,  which,  with 
om*  natm-es  and  in  this  world,  is  quite  possible.  I  find 
many  instances  in  which  he  put  an  imnatural  restraint  upon 
himself,  exhibited  an  unwise  scornfulness  of  the  surround- 
ing sentiments  of  things,  and  was,  perhaps,  too  severe  and 
exacting  in  his  treatment  of  those  who  were  really  not  unreal 
themselves,  while  falling  verbaUy  or  apparently  into  some 
relationship  to  unreality.  Perhaps  he  thus  sometimes 
needlessly  provoked  hostility.  How  strange  it  seems,  one 
of  the  gentlest  of  creatui*es,  always  alive  with  the  divine 
afflatus  of  affection,  the  vidicator  of  the  wronged,  the  gen- 
tle soother  of  sorrow  and  suffering,  he,  more  than  any  min- 
ister in  the  town — far  more  than  any  of  whom  we  have 
knowledge  of  the  same  order — provoked  hatred  and  bitter- 
ness. Umiatural  as  this  seems,  it  is  most  natm-al.  The 
divine  quahtics  of  trathfulness,  reahty,  and  gentleness  in  a 
man  have  been,  in  all  ages,  from  the  time  of  the  Master 
and  the  Lord,  exactly  those  which  have  called  out  and  giv- 
en active  potency  to  their  oj)posites  in  human  character, 
just  as  it  is  the  very  beam  of  hglit  that  shows  the  surromid- 
ing  gloom.  Hence  I  notice  an  intense  bitterness  and  scorn 
in  him  of  sectarianism.  He  could  apply  to  the  Record,  and 
its  miserable  but  mischievous  imbecihties,  the  words  of  the 
proi^het,  "Will  a  man  lie  for  God?"  or  ''Do  not  I  hate 
them,  O  Lord,  that  hate  Thee?" 

"I  have  just  had  sent  me  the  Itecord,  in  which  your  letter  ap- 
pears, and  thank  you  heartily  for  the  generous  defence  of  me, 
which  it  contains.  The  Record  has  done  me  the  honor  to  abuse 
me  for  some  time  past,  for  which  I  thank  them  gratefully'.  God 
forbid  they  should  ever  praise  me.  One  number  alone  contained 
four  unscrupulous  lies  about  me,  on  no  better  evidence  than  that 
some  one  had  told  them,  who  had  been  told  by  somebody  else. 
They  shall  have  no  disclaimer  from  me.     If  the  Jiecord  can  put 


r2  Chivalry  of  his  Chavacter. 

a  man  down,  the  sooner  he  is  put  down  the  better.  The  only 
time  I  have  ever  said  anything  abont  Socialism  in  the  pulpit  has 
been  to  preach  against  it  The  evangelicalism  (so  called)  of  the 
liecord  is  an  emasculated  cur,  snarling  at  all  that  is  better  than 
itself,  cowardly,  lying,  and  slanderous.  It  is  not  worth  while  to 
s'op  your  horse  and  castigate  it;  for  it  M'ill  be  oif  yelping  and 
come  back  to  snarl.  An  evangelical  clergyman  admitted  some 
proofs  I  had  given  him  of  the  RecorcVs  cowardice  and  dishon- 
esty, but  said,  "Well,  in  spite  of  that  I  like  it,  because  it  up- 
holds the  truth,  and  is  a  great  witness  for  religion."  "  So," 
said  I,  "is  that  the  creed  of  evangelicalism  ?  "  A  man  may  be 
a  liar,  a  coward,  and  slanderous,  and  still  uphold  the  truth." 

As  I  read  his  life,  it  seems  to  me  we  are  reading  a  story 
of  Christian  knighthood.  There  was  a  chivahy  in  his 
character  like  that  we  associate,  either  in  truth  or  eiTor, 
with  the  pure  brave  knights  of  the  middle  ages.  All  mean- 
ness was  detestable  to  him  ;  all  suffering  was  interesting 
to  him,  either  for  the  purposes  of  love  or  pity  ;  the  waters 
of  discipline  in  which  he  had  bathed,  had  so  purified  his 
nature  and  his  vision,  that  it  was  greatly  fi'om  this  that  he 
was  able  to  give  those  subtle  glances  mto  the  iDathways  of 
intricate  truth.  His  love  and  honor  for  women  was  of  the 
true  knightly  description,  chivalrous  and  pure,  and  must 
have  been  very  purif^dng  to  his  own  nature.  Something 
like  this  fi*om  his  \e>i'j  eai'hest  days  haunted  him.  He 
sympathised  deeply  with  woman's  fi'equently  too  abject 
condition  in  modern  society-,  and  as  he  talked  to  his 
sisterhood,  he  shed  uj^on  them  in  private  the  light  of 
ideas  which  must  have  lifted  them.  "Woman's  subjec- 
tion ! "  he  would  say,  "  What  say  you  to  His  ?  Obedient 
— a  sciwant ;  li-hcrifore  *  God  hath  also  highl}^  exalted 
Him.'  Mcthinks  a  thoughtful,  high-minded  woman  would 
scarcely  feel  degraded  by  a  lot  which  assimilates  her  to  the 
divincst  man.  '  Tie  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister.' "  He  watched  all  those  slight  circumstances 
^^hic•h   revealed   the    nobility  of    woman's   character  ;    he 


Pulpit  Mo)iograpli8 :  Fredericlc  Hohertson.    c  i 

thought  he  saw  plenty  of  the  real  poetry  of  life  and  inarti- 
culate sorrows,  far  more  pitiable  than  those  of  an  Alfieri,  in 
many  a  broken-hearted  washerwoman,  pining  under  the 
brutal  treatment  of  her  husband,  and  lost  among  her  soap- 
suds. The  grief,  perhaps,  could  not  be  spoken  ;  but,  in  all 
its  depths  it  was  there,  Here  is  one  of  those  fine  tender 
glances,  in  which  he  shows  himself  so  able  to  appreciate  a 
woman's  character,  and  so  sympathetic  with  her  sorrows, 
trae  minister  that  he  was  : — 

"  There  is  one  in  whom  I  have  been  deeply  interested ;  a  mar- 
ried man  with  a  family,  liis  wife  was  a  very  superior  woman. 
He  has  been  reading  very  hard,  lioping  to  take  his  degree  ;  but, 
to  my  sorrow,  failed  in  his  examination — to  liim  a  severe  (rial  on 
many  accounts.  I  called,  he  was  out ;  but  I  found  her  very  much 
overpowered,  and  suffering  intense  anxiety  for  her  husband's  bit- 
ter disappointment.  I  sat  some  time,  hoping  to  soothe ;  his 
tread  was  heard  at  the  front  door,  and  the  whole  woman  was 
changed.  I  did  not  hear  another  sigh,  and  she  calmly  and 
quietly  spoke  on  the  subject,  and  held  up  a  brighter  view  of  it 
than  she  herself  saw.  The  hour  of  weakness  was  past,  and  the 
deep  strong  current  of  a  woman's  affection  bore  her  up.  It  was 
the  reed  rising  from  the  storm  when  the  oak  was  shattered.'' 

This  respect  for  womanhood  as  womanhood  —  what 
Charles  Lamb  calls,  in  one  of  the  delightful  Essmj^  of  Elia, 
"  the  reverence  for  the  sex  " — manifested  itself  not  merely 
in  his  s}Tnpatliy  vvdth  ladies,  but  in  his  regard  for  the  feel- 
ings and  profound  respect  to  seiwants,  -finning  for  him,  his 
biogi'apher  testifies,  extraordinary  devotion  while  in  Bright- 
on ;  servants,  also,  especially  appreciated  his  ministiy. 
Not  long  after  he  v/ent  to  Trinity  Chapel,  on  a  Christmas 
day,  on  going  into  his  reading-desk,  he  found  a  set  of  hand- 
some books — ^Prayer  Book,  etc., — which  had  been  present- 
ed to  him  by  servants  attending  the  chapel.  In  the  course 
of  his  sermon,  he  delicately  alluded  to  the  subject  of  pres- 


r^  His  Honor  for  Womanliood. 

ents,  and  drew  a  picture  of  the  delight  which  would  fill  the 
heart  of  a  brother,  who,  on  the  morning  of  his  birthday 
should  awake,  and  find  in  his  chamber  a  rose,  placed  there 
by  sisterly  affection.  Those  who  had  contributed  the  gift 
would  well  understand  the  beautiful  and  dehcate  allusion. 
lie  acknowledged  it  in  a  letter,  in  which  he  says,  "  I  shaU 
never  read  out  of  those  books  without  the  hispmng  feeling 
that  there  are  hearts  around  me."  This  brotherly  feeling 
for  womanhood  knit  his  character  to  a  proportionate  inten- 
sity of  indignation  over  her  wrongs,  or  upon  the  manifesta- 
tion of  any  attempt  to  injure  her.  "I  have  seen  him," 
wi'ites  one  of  his  fi'iends,  "  grind  his  teeth,  and  clench  his 
fist  when  passing  a  man  w^ho,  he  knew,  was  bent  on  des- 
troying an  innocent  gu'l.*'  "  My  blood,"  he  writes  himself, 
after  a  conversation  on  the  wrongs  of  women,  "  was  inin- 
ning  hquid  fire."  The  following  httle  extract  illustrates 
also  that  chivalry  of  expression  which,  there  is  evidence 
enough  to  show,  would  readily  have  turned  to  chivalry  in 
action : — 


"  I  read  a  melancholy  story  to-day.  A  young  English  lady, 
who  had  been  sent  from  Australia  to  finish  her  education  in 
England,  was  returning  to  her  parents,  when  the  vessel  was 
wrecked,  and  all  the  party  with  whom  she  was,  except  herself, 
was  slain.  She  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  natives,  and  has  been 
forced  to  live  with  them  ever  since.  She  has  been  seen  more 
than  once,  vigilantly  attended  by  a  black.  She  is  hurried  away 
instantly  when  the  whites  are  seen.  All  efibrts  hitherto  to 
penetrate  the  forest,  and  discover  her,  have  been  unavailing. 
The  Australian  savage  is  almost  lower  than  the  Bosjesman  in 
the  scale  of  humanity.  Conceive  such  a  lot  for  a  refined  and 
educated  girl.  Poor  poor  thing !  I  should  like  to  be  in 
Australia.  In  my  present  mood,  I  would  lead  the  forlorn  hope 
in  search  of  her ;  I  would  not  recommend  any  black  to  come 
within  reach  of  my  rilie.  How  much  l>etter  a  virgin  grave  in 
the  Atlantic  would  have  been  ft)r  her '/' 


Pid])it  3Ionogm]yhs :  Frederick  Robertson,   ^r 

With  this,  or  because  of  this,  there  was  no  miscon- 
ception of  the  proper  and  social  position  of  woman  ;  ho 
had  too  much  reverence  for  her  to  chatter  about  her  rights, 
after  the  fashion  of  some  who  affect  to  reform  her  social 
influence.  While  he  reminded  some  of  his  fiiends  that 
theu'  theory  about  woman  reduced  her  very  much  to  the 
position  of  "  a  merely  unemancipated  negro,"  he  humor- 
ously described  the  difference  thus,  "  as  you  say,  Woman  is 
to  man  what  the  gi'istle  of  a  child  is  to  the  hai'd  skull  of  an 
adult :  as  /  say,  what  the  brain  is  to  the  skull,  or  the  flesh 
to  the  ribs." 

The  biographer  of  Robertson  (IVIr.  Brooke)  reveals  the 
character  of  Robei-tson,  not  by  reciting  a  storj',  but  by 
gi'ouping  together  into  harmony  and  consistency  extracts 
from  his  papers,  and  journals,  and  multifarious  letters. 
Externally,  his  hfe  does  not  show  much  ;  internally,  they 
ai-e  a  wondrous  revelation  of  mental  and  moral  conflict,  and 
work  attempted  and  done.  To  me,  I  confess,  Robert- 
son seems  a  mystery  :  I  could  almost  feel,  as  I  lay  down 
his  hfe,  as  though  its  story  w^ere  yet  untold.  Such  revela- 
tions break  forth  of  constant  internal  wretchedness  ;  the 
life  was  so  faithful,  the  ti'ust  in  God  and  in  Christ  so 
unbroken  ;  yet  the  heart  was  so  hungiy  and  unsatisfied. 
It  will  be  said,  this  arose  from  the  exquisite  stiTictui'e  of 
his  nature,  a  kind  of  Cowper  of  the  pulpit,  composed  of 
har]^)-3tring3  so  fine,  that  the  finger  or  the  wuid  touching 
them  soon  turned  the  strain  to  discord.  Then,  if  any 
nature  ever  had  a  profound  sense  of  the  wretchedness  of 
life  and  the  world  he  had.  Does  this  satisfy  us  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  sorrow  ?     We  are  told  : 

His  sensitiveucss  followed  him  into  society,  and  constituted 
his  pleasure  and  his  pain.  He  was  easily  jarred;  but  when  in 
tune  with  those  around  him,  wlicn  in  the  company  of  tliose  he 
loved  and  trusted,  the  harmony  of  his  nature  imparted  itself  to 
all  around  him.     In  his  happier  moods  he  was  as  radiant  as  a 


r6  ^^ot  Free  from  Morhid  Mooth. 

child:  lie  joinetl  with  a  fascinating  cheerfulness  in  the  games 
and  merriment  of  young  people;  it  seemed  a  relief  to  him 
to  throw  oir  with  them  the  whole  burden  of  life,  and  to  forget 
the  sorrow  and  disappointment  with  which  Ids  career  was  be- 
set. His  whole  being  blossomed  under  the  sunshine  of  love 
and  comprehension:  in  such  society  he  diffused  peace,  and 
drew  out  from  each  all  that  was  best  and  purest ;  but  where  he 
felt  that  he  was  suspected  and  misunderstood,  he  would  often 
sit  silent  for  the  whole  evening. 

It  seems  undoubted  that  in  his  views  he  sometimes  be- 
came morbid.  He  refreshed  himself  by  visiting  the  poor  ; 
but  the  terrible  contradiction  which  sorrow,  pain,  and  sin 
seemed  to  give  to  t'jie  truth  that  the  Ruler  of  the  world  is 
love,  prcFScd  upon  him  with  a  fierce  force  ;  "  Shall  not  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  rjght  ?"  he  perpetually  asked. 
He  thought  life  not  worth  living  unless  that  question  could 
be  answered.  He  was  recldess  of  life  :  one  day,  while  riding 
with  his  wife  and  some  fi'iends,  he  put  his  horse  at  a  lofty 
hedge  ;  it  was  a  very  dangerous  leap,  his  friends  earnestly 
dissuaded  him,  but  he  could  not  be  conquered,  and  did  not 
believe  in  danger  ;  he  urged  his  horse,  took  the  leap,  and 
came  down  with  a  crash  on  the  other  side.  The  lookers-on 
thought  that  both  rider  and  hoi^se  must  have  sustained 
injmy  ;  he  got  up  smiling,  but  he  owned  he  had  been  too 
rash.  Robertson  was  not  a  fool,  but  in  the  presence  of 
loving  hearts,  a  man  who  could,  without  a  cause,  for  no  sake 
of  humanity,  encounter  a  fi'ightful  risk  before  an  anxious 
wife,  should  be  a  fool  or  something  far  more  sad.  Circum- 
stances like  these  occuiTing  in  his  hfe  seem  to  reveal  that 
he  had  no  zest  in  living.  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  a  very 
liigh  sense  he  was  a  mart}T  ;  he  used  to  ssy,  "  It  is  j^erfectly 
tnie  that  whenever  there  is  a  gi-eat  soul  pom-ing  out  its 
utterances  to  the  world  there  will  bo  a  Calvary."  Yet  he  did 
not  advise  pm-poseless martyrdom.  "  Be  sm*e,"  he  would  say, 
"  that  the  tnith  is  one  worth  suffering  for,  or  that  the  people 


Pulpit  Momgraplis :  Frederick  Robertson,   57 

to  whom  you  speak  are  worth  its  iUummation.      Thus  you 
may  save  youi'self  the  irritation  of  attacking  the  prejudices 
of  Pharisees,  which  exhausts  and   does  no  good  ;  hke  a 
gi-eat  horse  kickmg  at  flies,  every  kick  covermg  hun  with 
sweat,    and   enough   to   break  twenty  men's  hves.     You 
always  get  the  worst  of  it  when  you  kick  at  flies  ;  squash 
them,  if  you  can,  without  more  effort  than  the  switchmg 
of  the  tail ;  if  not,  let  them  alone."    Yet  he  suiYered  enough 
of  more  than  irritation  m  the  buzzing  and  the  stingmg  of 
the  flies.      Great  as  was  his  success  from  the  pulpit,  I  have 
no  doubt,  that,  while  grace  and  Providence  placed  him 
there,  natm-e  had  rather  fitted  him  for  a  poet ;  he  had 
eveiy  faculty,  it  would  seem,  which  would  have  made  hun 
a  great  poet— the  exquisite  flow  of   rh3i;hmic  and  penetra- 
tive speech  ;  an  eye  of  exceeding  sensibihty  for  the  finest 
shades,  and  groupings,  and  powers  of  natm'al  sceneiw ;  a 
deep  acquamtance  and  fellowship  with  souls  ;  an  absorbing 
sense  of  the  Infinite  Presence  always  walking  by  his  side  ; 
a  synthetic  faculty  by  which  he  held  in  his.  hand  the  gi'eat 
generalization  of  thmgs  ;  and  a  fine  power  of  analysis  in 
detectmg  the  differences  of  thmgs,  and  separating  them  m- 
to  proportions.     We  have  called  hun  the  Cowper  of  the 
pulpit,  in  allusion  to  his  sadness,  his  power  of  sature  and 
of  scorn,   his  sensative,  sluinkmg  delicacy  of  touch  ;  but 
there  the  analogy  ends.      His  indebtedness  to  Wordswoiih 
his  homage  to  Tennyson,  united  to  his  own  mighty  power 
of   assimilation,  and  especially  to  his  sense  of  the  mystery 
of  things,   and   the   perpetual  shadows   reflected  by  them 
fi'om   imseen  worlds,   gave  to  his   sermons   more   of  the 
character  of  those  two  great  teachers— especiaUy  the  elder 
and  the  higher  of  the  two— than  any  preacher  with  whom 
we  are  acquainted.      But  there  was  a  TN^ld  and  passionate 
deahng  with  natm-e,  that  de-conventionahzmg  an  authence, 
tearing  aside  its  veils,  and  masks,  and  that  pom-ing  forth, 
through  the  deeper  recesses  discovered  in  human  souls,  rays 


r8  A  Walk  in  Hove  Churcliyard. 

of  light  or  waters  of  consolation.  Robertson  always  seems 
to  us  the  poet  in  the  pulpit  I  have  referred  to  his  power 
of  depicting  scenery,  and  that  which  is  the  true  poet  gift, 
the  synthesis  of  the  human  heart  with  a  scene,  making 
soul  and  sense  the  tubes  or  chords  of  the  gi-eat  instrument 
sending  forth  the  tones  of  melody.  Here,  for  instance,  is 
a  walk  to  Hove  churchyard : 

"  I  went  out  this  afternoon  to  get  some  fresli  air,  and  cool  a 
little  feverish ness.  After  a  walk  I  bent  my  steps  to  the  spot 
most  congenial  to  my  feelings  at  that  time,  the  churchyard  at 
Hove.  It  was  quite  dark,  but  the  moon  soon  rose  and  shed  a 
quiet  light  upon  the  long  church  and  the  white  tombstones.  I 
went  in  and  was  pleased  to  hear  not  a  single  human  sound  far  or 
near.  The  moon  was  rising,  like  glowing  copper,  through  the 
smoke  at  Brighton.  Above  there  were  a  few  dense  clouds, 
edged  with  light,  sailing  across  a  marvellous  blue,  which 
softened  towards  the  zenith  into  a  paler  and  more  pearly  cobalt, 
with  clesir  innocent  stars  here  and  there  looking  down  so  chaste 
and  pure.  I  heard  nothing  but  the  sea ;  that,  however,  very 
distinctly  chanting  no  "  sea  psalm,"  but  falling  with  a  most 
dissonant,  heavy,  endless  clang  upon  the  shore.  It  found  for 
me  the  expression  I  could  not  put  in  words. 

"  I  went  to  the  tomb,  and  stood  beside  it  quietly  for  some 
time.  I  felt  no  bitterness — infinite  pity  and  tenderness — that 
was  predominant.     I  did  not  kneel  to  jDray ;  I   do  not  know 

why.     I  passed  E.  M 's  tomb,  and  paused  one  moment.    The 

bridegroom  lies  beneath  the  hillock  where  so  many  fell  at 
Chilliauwallah  ;  the  bride  is  desolate.  Two  who  were  there  are 
dead,  both  young.  That  marriage  and  that  death  are  singularly 
joined  in  my  mind,  for  poor  E was  planning  her  own  wed- 
ding then,  and  settling  that  I  should  marry  her.     Young  II , 

too,  has  gone,  but  I  do  not  envy  any  of  them,  except  the  soldier, 
perhaps.  I  wish  I  had  been  with  my  own  gallant,  wondi-ous 
regiment  in  that  campaign. 

He  had  ceiiaiuly  a  morbid  nature.  His  sins  were  all 
sins  of  pride — an  over-sensitive  nature — it  is  not  uncom- 
mon.   It  was  hence  that  he  scorned  his  task  as  a  preacher : 


Pulpit  Monogra'plis :  Frederich  ItoberUon.    eg 

"  I  wish  I  did  not  hate  preacliing  so  mucli ;  the  degradation 
of  being  a  Brigliton  preacher  is  almost  intolcral)le.  '  I  cannot 
dig,  to  beg  I  am  ashamed ; '  but  I  think  there  is  not  a  hard- 
'.vorldng  artizan  whose  work  does  not  seem  to  me  a  worthier 
and  a  higher  being  than  myself.  I  do  not  dej^reciate  spiritual 
work.  I  hold  it  higher  than  secular;  all  I  say  and  feel  is,  that 
by  the  change  of  times,  how  humiliated  and  how  degraded  to 
the  dust  I  have  felt  in  perceiving  myself  quietly  taken  by  God 
and  men  for  the  j^opular  preacher  of  a  fashionable  watering- 
place  ;  how  slight  the  power  seems  to  me  to  be  given  by  it  of 
winning  souls ;  and  how  sternly  I  have  kept  my  tongue  from 
saying  a  sj'llable  or  a  sentence  in  pulpit  or  on  platform  because  it 
would  be  popular  ! " 

This  is  sad,  and  it  is  wrong.  Yet  Elijah  fled  to  Horeb, 
and  said,  "  Oli,  Lord,  it  is  enough,  let  me  die,"  and  Moses, 
and  Jonah,  ahke  shrank  from  the  proj^het's  office.  But  all 
beauty  saddened  him,  made  his  heai*t  ache  ;  he  says,  and 
truly  says,  "  No  man  can  attain  the  highest  excellence  who 
is  insensible  to  highest  beauty."  He  moralized  natui'e,  his 
biograj)her  says,  not  wilfuUy  but  unconsciously.  Impres- 
sions of  scenes  were  reproduced  from  the  haimted  chamber 
of  his  soul  where  they  had  continued  in  waiting,  or  were 
thronging,  as  in  that  magnificent  passage  in  one  of  his 
lectures  on  Poetry : 

"  I  wish  I  could  describe  one  scene  which  is  passing  before 
my  memory  at  this  moment,  when  I  found  myself  alone  in  a 
solitary  valley  in  the  Alps,  without  a  guide,  and  a  thunder- 
storm coming  on ;  I  wish  I  could  explain  how  every  circum- 
stance combined  to  produce  the  same  feeling,  and  ministered  to 
unity  of  impression :  the  slow,  wild  wreathing  of  the  vapor 
round  the  peaks,  conceahng  their  summits,  and  imparting  in 
semblance  their  own  motion,  till  each  dark  mountain-form 
seemed  to  be  mysterious  and  alive  ;  the  eagle-like  plunge  of  the 
lammergeier,  the  bearded  vulture  of  the  Alps ;  the  rising  of  the 
flock  of  choughs,  which  I  had  surprised  at  their  feast  on  car- 
rion, with  their  red  beaks  and  legs,  and  their  wild  shrill  cries 
startling  the  solitude  and  silence,  till  the  blue  lightning  stream- 


6o   II(fppineSi<  In  tJi>'  lii^jJtff-oKKne.ss  of  Clirlst. 

ed  at  last,  and  the  shattering  thunders  crashed  as  if  the  moun- 
tains must  give  way.  And  then  came  the  feelings  which  in 
their  fulness  man  can  feel  but  once  in  life  :  mingled  sensations 
of  awe  and  triumpli,  and  defiance  of  danger — pride,  rapture, 
contempt  of  pain,  humljleness,  and  intense  repose,  as  if  all  the 
strife  and  struggle  of  the  elements  w^cre  only  uttering  the 
unrest  of  man's  bosom :  so  that  in  all  such  scenes  there  is  a  feel- 
ing of  relief,  and  he  is  tempted  to  cry  out  exultingly.  There ! 
there  !  All  this  was  in  my  heart,  and  it  was  never  said  out  until 
now." 

It  is  manifest  that  wc  might  go  on  quoting  illustrations 
of  such  walks  and  reflections,  but  we  miLst  forbear.  Rich, 
gloomy,  or  beautiful  natural  scenery  had  to  liim  the  moral 
significance  it  ha.s  alw^ays  to  the  true  poet.  It  became  an 
embod}dng  and  imbosoming,  like  Bjrron  on  the  lake  of 
Geneva,  amidst  the  wild  thunders  and  the  phosphorescent 
dances  on  the  waves,  and  the  uproar  of  cloud  and  moun- 
tain, when  everyone  found  a  tongue.  It  was  as  if  the  poet 
had  said,  "  There,  there,"  I  have  had  all  that  within,  me 
that  is  the  pictui'e  of  it,  that  is  what  I  have  felt  and  feel. 
And  my  readers,  perhaps,  will  remember  there  is  a  passage 
in  one  of  Eobertson's  sermons,  in  which  he  appropriates 
some  such  expressions  as  these  : — "  "NATien  we  gaze  on  the 
perfect  righteousness  of  Cluist,  and  are  able  to  say,  There, 
that  is  my  religion,  that  is  what  I  want  to  be,  that  is  what 
I  am  not,  that  is  my  offeiiug,  that  is  my  life  as  I  would 
wish  to  give  it :  IMy  Savioui* !  fill  up  the  blurred  and  blot- 
ted sketch  which  my  clumsy  hand  has  di'awTi  of  a  divine 
life,  with  the  fulness  of  Thy  perfect  i^icture, — ^I  feel  the 
beauty  which  I  cannot  realize  ;  robe  me  in  Thine  unuttera^ 
ble  purity — 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  !  " 

But  he  has  been  chai'ged  wiih  being  inicvanr/rllcal,  and  no 
wonder,  for  ho  says : 


Pulint  MonograpliS :  Frederick  Robertson.  6 1 

''  In  proportion  as  I  adore  Christ,  exactly  in  tluit  proportion 
as  I  abhor  that  which  calls  itself  Evangelicalism.  I  feel  more- 
at  brotherhood  with  a  wronged,  mistaken,  maddened,  sinful 
Chartist,  than  I  do  with  that  religious  world  which  has  broken 
Popciy  into  a  hundred  thousand  fragments,  and  made  every 
fragment  an  entire,  new,  inlallible  Pope— dealing  out  quietly 
and  coldbloodedly  the  flames  of  the  next  world  upon  all 
heretics  wdio  dispute  their  dictum,  in  compensation  for  the  loss 
of  the  power  which  their  ancestors,  by  spiritual  descent,  pleas- 
ingly exercised  for  dispensing  the  flames  of  this  world. 
Luckily  the  hope  remains  that  they  are  not  plenipotentiaries  of 
the  place  with  w^hich  they  seem  so  familiar.  More  and  more, 
day  by  day,  one's  soul  feels  itself  alone  with  God,  and  resolved 
to  listen  for  His  voice  alone  in  the  deeps  of  the  Spirit." 

What  a  pity  we  do  not  take  care  of  our  words.     Yet 
assuredly,  Eobertson  was  what  we   mean    by  evangelical^ 
that  is,  be  was  a  Christian,  and  not  a  believer  in  sacerdotal- 
ism^ or  the  limitation  of  diTine  gifts  to  priestly  channels. 
He  sought  to  speak  to,  and  to  awaken,  and  to  convert  con- 
sciences; he  believed  in  the  message  of  Christ  to  the  world. 
Thus  we  have  reached  to  the  defective  side  of  Robert- 
son's theology.     He  was  a  poet,  he  was  not  a  theologian  ; 
he  interpreted  faith   entirely  by  feelings  ;   he  protested 
against  dogmatic  theology.     There  must  be  a  rehgion  of 
feelings  ;  of  the  two,  better  a  rehgion  of  feelings  than  a 
religion  of  dogmas,  if  one  have  to  exist  alone  and  apai-t 
from  the  other.     But  there  is  not  therefore  the  less  to  be 
found  a  religion  of  dogma.     It  is  remarkable,  upon  this 
point,  to  contrast  together  the  two  men  who  most  natui*ally 
suggest  comparison   and  contrast,  John  Henry  Newman 
and  Frederick  Robertson.     I  have  aheady  suggested  some 
points  of    resemblance.     I  am  acquamted  with  no  other 
sermons  which  will  bear  comparison  with  Robertson's,  be- 
sides those  aU-strengtheniug  and  hght-bearmg   discourses, 
which  were  his  counsellors  to  his  close.     Yet,  while  New- 
man  declares   that    ''Dogma   lias   been  the  fimdamental 


62    Wcnit  of  liohist  Dogmatism  in  Ms  Views, 

princiiile  of  my  religion.  I  know  no  other  religion.  I 
cannot  enter  into  the  idea  of  any  other  sort  of  religion" — 
Robertson,  as  we  have  said,  resisted  the  idea  of  dogmatic 
teacliing.  It  must  have  been,  and  it  is  still,  very  chamiing 
to  find  how  he  opens  human  spii'its  ;  that  was  his  charac- 
teristic. The  i^roper  oi^position  in  the  pulpit  to  the  dog- 
matic is  the  suggestive  ;  he  was  eminently  suggestive  ;  as 
a  theologian,  I  can  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  he  was 
eminently  ignorant.  I  am  sorry  to  see,  and  I  wonder  to 
know,  that  the  Fathers  held  so  slight  a  space  in  his  esteem : 
"I  know  their  system  pretty  w^ell,"  he  says.  I  have  no 
proof  that  he  knew  Aug-ustine  at  all,  and  I  must  think 
that  his  mind  brought  resolutely  into  harness  by  a  coiu'se 
of  Augustine,  would  have  made  another  man  of  liim. 
How  much  in  Augustine  would  have  ministered  to  his 
l^eculiar  idios^Ticracy  of  character !  Strange  to  say,  of  so 
strong  a  nature,  he  really  wanted  robustness  ;  he  fed  upon 
his  feelings  ;  they  were  right  noble  and  glorious  feelings  ; 
but  such  food  or  drink  turns  out  to  be  a  real  Amrheeta 
cup  at  last,  and  so  Robertson  found  it.  It  seems  remarka- 
ble that  a  natm-e  constituted  Hke  Robertson's,  with  a  spirit 
of  instinctive  and  implicit  homage  to  the  principles  of 
obechence,  did  not  so  distinctly  recognise  the  necessity  of 
lines  and  laws,  settled  and  estabhshed  at  once  for  the 
measurement  of  truth  and  the  furnishing  a  standard  in 
the  preception  and  reception  of  it.  Of  coui'se,  I  am  quite 
aware  that  he  would  have  said,  and  his  biographer  would 
perhaps  say  on  behalf  of  him,  such  law^s  were  recog- 
nized. It  is  clear,  however,  that  the  very  cathohcity  of  his 
own  nature,  its  intense  fi'eodom,  its  independence,  led  him 
to  renounce  all  ext(  rnal  dictation,  not  only  arising  from 
that,  it  scorns  to  us,  which  tradition  had  establisheil,  but 
that  which  had  been  wrought  out  fi'om  the  careful,  and 
patient,  and  elaborate  processes  of  thought.  Hence  it 
was  that,  to  him,  hij,diost   t.mtli  nested  nliiinatelv  oti  the 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Fredericlc  Robertson.  63 

authority  neither  of  the  Bible  nor  of  the  chiu'ch,  but  on 
the  mtness  of  God's  spirit  in  the  heart  of  man  ;  and  this 
was  to  be  reahzed  not  by  the  cultivation  of  the  under- 
standing, but  by  the  cultivation  of  loving  obedience.  It  is 
a  dangerous  standard,  although  substantially  it  is  the 
doctrine  of  Fox,  and  of  all  the  holiest  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  also  of  the  great  mj^stics  of  the  Roniish  Church, 
hke  Henry  of  Suso,  and  St.  Theresa,  and  St.  John  of  the 
Cross.  It  is  an  utterly  dangerous  standard,  for  it  must 
sui-ely  follow  that  truth  is  not  anywhere  fixed  and  absolute 
to  the  mind  without  itself ;  it  is  as  if  because  we  may  be 
unable  to  deal  with  the  great  laws  of  weight  and  mensura- 
tiou,  they  have  no  absolute  and  actual  existence.  Hence 
he  says  of  his  own  views  on  insphation : — 

"I  hold  that  a  spiritual  revelation  from  God  'mnst  involve 
scientific  incorrectness  ;  it  could  not  be  from  God  unless  it  did. 
Suppose  that  the  cosmogony  had  been  given  in  terms  which 
would  satisfy  our  jjresent  scientific  knowledge,  or,  say,  rather 
the  terms  of  absolute  scientific  truth.  It  is  plain  that,  in  this 
case,  the  men  of  that  day  would  have  rejected  its  authority ; 
they  would  have  said,  *Here  is  a  man  who  tells  us  the  earth 
goes  round  the  sun;  and  the  sky,  which  we  see  to  be  a  stereoma 
fixed  and  not  far  up,  is  infinite  sj^ace,  with  no  firmament  at  all, 
and  so  on.  Can  we  trust  one  in  matters  unseen  who  is  mani- 
festly in  error  in  things  seen  and  level  to  the  senses  ?  Can  we 
accept  his  revelation  about  God's  nature  and  man's  duty,  when 
he  is  wrong  in  things  like  these  ! '  Thus,  the  faith  of  this  and 
subsequent  ages  must  have  been  purchased  at  the  expense  of 
the  unlx'lief  of  all  previous  ages.  I  hold  it,  therefore,  as  a 
proof  of  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  divinely  wise,  to  have 
given  a  spiritual  revelation,  i.  e.^  a  revelation  concerning  the 
truths  of  the  soul  and  its  relation  to  God,  in  popular  and  incor- 
rect language." 

I  give  this,  for  it  is  a  fine  illustration  of  what  we  get  to 
when  we  reliuquish  dogTuatic  teaching.  But  let  me  not  be 
unjust  to  Robertson  himself ;   he  walked  in  the  light ;   in 


64      Pressure  of  the  Burden  of  the  Mystery. 

well  known  words,  in  one  of  his  seiinons,  lie  testifies  as  to 
the  coui'se  to  be  adopted  for  the  obtaining  purest  Hght  and 
highest  rest.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  separated  too  much 
that  favorite  text  of  his,  "  If  a  man  will  do  his  will,  he 
shall  know  of  the  doctiine  whether  it  be  of  God;"  he 
greatly  isolated  it,  but  let  us  be  just  to  him  to  remember 
that  ho  acted  upon  it  nervously,  and  painfully  sought  to 
dOj  and  thus  to  know : — 

But  there  are  hours,  and  they  come  to  us  all  at  some  period  of 
life  or  other,  when  the  hand  of  Mystery  seems  to  lie  heavy  on 
the  soul — when  some  life-shock  scatters  existence,  leaves  it  a 
blank  and  dreary  waste  henceforth  for  ever,  and  there  appears 
nothini(  of  hope  in  all  the  expanse  which  stretches  out,  except 
that  merciful  gate  of  death  which  opens  at  the  end — hours  when 
the  sense  of  mis23laced  or  ill  requited  affection,  the  feeling  of 
personal  worthlessness,  the  uncertainty  and  meanness  of  all  hu- 
man aims,  and  a  doubt  of  all  human  goodness,  unfix  the  soul 
from  all  its  old  moorings, — and  leave  it  drifting — drifting  over 
the  vast  Infinitude,  with  an  awful  sense  of  solitariness,  Then, 
the  man  whose  faith  rested  on  outward  Authority  and  not  on  in- 
ward life,  will  find  it  give  way  :  the  authority  of  the  priest,  the  au- 
thority of  the  Church :  or  merely  the  authority  of  a  document 
proved  by  miracles  and  backed  by  prophecy :  the  soul — conscious 
life  hereafter — God — will  be  an  awful  desolate  Perhaps.  Well !  in 
such  moments  you  doubt  all — whether  Christianity  be  true: 
whether  Christ  was  man,  or  God,  or  a  beautiful  fiible.  You  ask 
bitterly,  like  Pontius  Pilate,  What  is  truth  ?  In  such  an  hour 
what  remains  ?  I  reply,  Obedience.  Leave  those  thoughts  for 
the  present.  Act — be  merciful  and  gentle — honest :  force  your- 
self to  abound  in  little  services  :  trj^  to  do  good  to  others  :  be 
true  to  the  duty  that  you  know.  That  must  be  right  whatever 
else  is  uncertain.  And  by  all  the  lav.'s  of  the  human  heart,  by 
the  work  of  God,  you  shall  not  be  left  to  doubt.  Do  that  much 
of  the  will  of  God  which  is  plain  to  you,  "  You  shall  know  of 
the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God." 

And  hero  it  must  be  said,  that  it  is  at  this  point  the  dan- 
gers of  Robertson's  whole  system  of  thought  and  theology 


JPulplt  Monographs :  Frederick  JtohcviHon.  6  c 

emerge.  He  unquestionably  believed  in  tlie  sacrifice  of 
Christ  ;  but  it  would  need  far  greater  space  than  I  can 
here  bestow  to  notice  the  points  of  his  departure  from  the 
more  generally  received  systems  of  theology.  From  the 
reasons  we  have  assigned,  it  followed  that  Christ,  appre- 
hended by  the  human  spnit,  was  rather  Infinite  Wisdom, 
and,  if  we  may  say  so.  Infinite  Example,  than  Power. 
Christ,  in  ]\Ir,  Eobertson's  system,  becomes  an  illustrious, 
to  use  the  word  again,  infinite,  revelation  of  the  mind  and 
Providence  of  God.  But,  with  all  the  touching  lovingness 
and  puiity  of  oui*  Biighton  teacher,  we  apprehend  his 
message  would  fail  to  meet  and  convey  comfort  to  millions 
of  poor,  weak,  sinful  souls  in  whom  the  seeds  of  grace  were 
very  small  and  few,  and  the  proch\dties  to  damnation  very 
fierce  and  certain.  His  system  seems  to  remove  the  method 
of  salvation  from  the  Di^ine  strength  and  place  it  in  hu- 
man hands.  Of  com'se,  such  a  man  v^^ould  see  the  necessity 
and  strength  of  the  gi-eat  conservative  elements  in  theology 
we  call  Calvinism  ;  but  his  appeal  was  to  human  VkiU,  and 
our  comfort  in  rehgion,  and  almost  oui-  salvation,  depended 
on  the  equanimity  of  our  own  affections,  the  enhghtenment 
of  our  own  perceptions.  I  say  it  with  a  profound  sense  of 
indebtedness  to  Kobertson  for  many  gleams  which,  across 
his  pages,  have  been  like  sudden  sunlight  across  the  mists 
of  mountain  lakes,  and  vales,  still  I  am  compelled  to  feel 
that  the  element  wanting  in  his  sermons  is  Clnist,  the 
poicer  of  God.  But,  while  we  say  this,  and  attribute  this 
defection  to  him,  we  confess  to  infinite  siuiDrise  that  he  has 
been  made  to  suffer  so  severely  in  popular  estimation. 
Something  like  the  same  defects  would  be  noticed  in  all 
Armuiian  teaching,  and  to  the  same  extent.  His  theology 
assimilated  to  much  that  is  most  popular  in  the  Komish 
Church,  which,  in  spite  of  the  gi-eat  Western  Father,  Au- 
gustine, has  never  been  very  Augustinian  in  its  teaching  ; 
was  not  John  Wesley  charged  with  defect?    It  is  tlie  pow- 


66     Does  not  find  God  in  the  Understanding, 

er  to  perceive  Christ  as  imputed  righteousness  wliicli  is,  and  has 
been  wanting ;  and  this  vnM  always  prevent  Robeiison's 
sormons  from  being  the  consolation  of  the  large  number  of 
sick  rooms,  and  places  where  the  utterly  weak,  ciiished, 
hcli^less,  but  penitential  are.  They  brace  for  action  ;  their 
wonls  sound  through  the  halls  of  the  soul  like  a  morning 
trumpet  to  sleepmg  hosts ;  they  are  as  grand  and  refresh- 
ing as  winds  on  lonely  seas,  or  solitary  heights  ;  but  for 
the  consumptive  and  the  weak,  they  are  like  sea  breezes, 
too  strong  for  the  system.  Read  from  this  point  of  view, 
perhaps  it  is  not  wonderful  that  Robertson's  ecstacy  of  vi- 
sion, his  own  purity  of  heart,  and  his  ]3erpetually  brooding 
and  profound  soitow  over  human  hves  and  lots,  consumed 
him  :  he  took  no  refuge  either  in  the  heartless  sentiment- 
alism  of  universalism,  or  Heaven-made-easy-for-all-and-sim- 
diy,  and  eternal  amnesty  to,  Newgate  calendars  :  or  in  the 
still  more,  to  my  thought,  inconceivable  di'eam  of  annihil- 
ation, or  the  infinite  ash-j)an  for  the  greatest  multitude. 
He  says,  and  it  was  much  for  such  a  nature  to  say,  when 
we  remember  the  principle  rather  of  internal  hght  fi*om 
which  he  would  in  such  a  case  speak,  "  My  only  diificulty 
is  how  not  to  believe  in  everlasting  punishment."  The  pro- 
cesses by  wliich  such  a  mind  ariived  both  at  its  convictions 
and  tniths  are  most  interesting  ;  and  it  would  be  especial- 
ly interesting  to  notice  how  he  and  Dr.  Newman,  starting 
fi'om  centres  so  opposite,  arrive  very  substantially  at  the 
same  result.  It  was  a  canon  with  him,  and  a  well-known 
passage  in  the  Apologia  declares  the  same  sentiment,  that 
God  cannot  be  found  by  the  understanding.  Strange  that 
it  should  seem  surprising  to  us  when  the  scojdc  of  Scrip- 
ture seems  to  maintain  the  same  impossibility.  "  I  do  not 
think  that  where  such  men  as  La  Place,  D'Alembert, 
ITumc,  Voltaire, — have  never  seen  any  demonstration,  that 
imderstanding  can  ha  the  real  court  of  appeal."  And  thus 
it  follows,  as  he  says : — 


Puliyit  Monographs :  Frederich  RoherUon.   67 

There  are  men  alv\ays  talking  of  rights,  and  never  of  duties ; 
I  do  not  expect  that  they  should  believe  in  God,  nor  could  I 
prove  God  to  such.  But,  let  a  man  once  feel  the  law  of  duty  in 
his  soul — let  him  feel  within  him  as  Avith  the  articulate  distinct- 
ness of  a  living  Voice,  the  Absolute  Imperative,  "  Thou  shalt," 
and  "Thou  shalt  not," — let  him  feel  that  the  only  hell  is  the 
hell  of  doing  wrong,  and  if  that  man  does  not  believe  in  a  God, 
all  history  is  false.  Brother  men,  the  man  who  tries  to  discover 
a  God  outside  of  him  instead  of  within,  is  doing  just  like  him 
who  endeavors  to  find  out  the  place  of  the  rainbow  by  hunting 
for  it.  The  place  of  the  rainbow  depends  upon  your  standing 
point ;  and  I  say,  that  the  conviction  of  the  being  and  character 
of  a  God  depends  upon  your  moral  standing  point.  To  believe 
in  God  is  simply  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world.  You 
must  be  pure  before  you  can  believe  in  purity;  generous,  before 
you  can  believe  in  unselfishness.  In  all  moral  truth,  what  you 
are,  that  is  the  condition  of  your  belief  Only  to  him  in  whom 
infinite  aspirations  stir,  can  an  Infinite  One  be  proved. 

And  in  the  following  words  he  finely  expresses  how 
clearly  he  has  grasped  the  truth  that  God  is  infinitely 
greater  than  human  faith  in  Him  : — 

I  think  we  shall  become  content  to  wait — a  great  lesson  ;  and 
let  God  teach  us  by  degrees,  instead  of  fancying  we  can  find  it 
all  out  by  effort.     Do  you  remember  AYordsworth — 

Think  you,  'mid  all  this  mighty  sum 
Of  things  for  ever  speaking, 

That  nothing  of  itself  will  come, 
But  we  must  still  be  seeking  ? 
We  do  not  trust  God,  we  trust  ourselves.     We  do  not  believe 
that  He  seeks  us  ;  we  fancy  we  have  to  seek  Ilim.    We  are  anx- 
ious to  know  all  about  God,  and  meanwhile  we  never  think  of 
knowing  God.     God,  instead  of  religion,  and  much  more,  God, 

instead  of  theology,  is  what  we  need  to  believe  in I 

myself  follow  this  plan  as  much  as  possible.  I  mix  little  with 
the  religious  world,  and  so  avoid  discussion.  I  read  little  of  di- 
vinity, much  more  of  literature,  though  that,  from  mental  jDros- 
tration,  is  now  next  to  nothing.     And  I  tiw  to  trust  in  God — 


68  His  Dislike  of  Church  Milliner y. 

God  and  our  souls  ;  there  is  nothing  else  to  trust  to.  And  I  am 
sure  I  should  be  giving  you  dreary  advice  were  I  to  say,  read  on 
all  sides  of  the  question.  No,  I  rather  say  ;  trust  in  God — live 
in  liim— do  Ilis  will — and  rest. 

But  this  also  would  save  him  fi'om  the  hard  scepticism  of 
the  college-school,  as  he  says  again  to  the  workingmen  : — 

There  have  been  great  mistakes  made  in  this  society,  and  there 
are  many  difficulties  ;  but  you  will  weather  the  difficulties  yet. 
The  mistakes  will  become  your  experience.  Kay,  I  believe  that 
the  discipline  of  character  which  many  of  you  will  have  gained 
by  this  struggle  with  an  evil  principle,  and  the  practical  insight 
which  it  has  given  you  into  the  true  bearing  of  many  social 
questions,  iu  which  I  jDcrsonally  know  that  wild  and  captivating 
theories  have  been  modified  in  your  minds  by  this  recent  expe- 
rience, will  be  invaluable.  If  only  this  had  been  gained,  I  be- 
lieve the  institution  would  not  have  been  established  in  vain. 
But  if  men  say  that  all  these  difficulties  tell  against  inquiry 
and  education,  I  can  only  say  that  it  proves  we  want  more  edu- 
cation. If  I  wanted  a  proof  of  that,  I  should  find  it  in  this — 
that  the  worVingmen  of  Brighton  have  not  yet  got  heyond  Tom 
Paine. 

No  doubt  it  is  painfully  true  conscience  and  faith  are 
tv:ins ;  one  is  born  with  the  other,  wdth  the  one  the  other 
expires  too. 

Robertson  did  not  find  land  in  Rome  ;  of  Romanism  he 
spoke  as  "  an  infinitely  small  and  sensuahstic  embodiment 
of  truths — a  livmg  human  form  shrunk  into  a  mummy, 
with  every  featui'e  hideously  Uke  life."  He  was  not,  indeed 
imcharitable  to  ancient  Rome  ;  purgatory,  absolution,  ma- 
riolatry,  were,  he  says,  to  him  "  fossils,  not  hvcs  ; "  but 
for  "  chanted  services,  and  innocent  gentlemen  with  lilies 
of  the  valley  in  their  di'esses  " — for  the  whole  procession 
of  Christianity  done  up  in  haberdasher^^ — he  had,  if  not 
contempt,  then  tlie  fulness  of  a  scornful  pity  ;  from  all 
these,  from  the  illusions  of  tlie  senses,  and  the  iron  yicqb 
of  the  understanding,  ho  turned  to  feeling  ;    as  we  have 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Frederick  Robertson.   69 

seen,  to  obedience.  Let  those  who  quarrel  \vith  Robert- 
son's faith,  first  rival  him  in  the  heroism  and  beauty  of  his 
obedient  hfe.  Prayer  was  his  solace,  and  pei-petual  strong 
consolation  :  he  recommended  this  to  all  who  expected  to 
derive  hg-ht  and  strength  fi'om  his  teachmg.  "We  read  of 
his  continuing  in  praj^r  imtil  he  realized  the  presence  of 
God.  "The  love  of  God,"  he  would  say,  "is  the  end  of 
all,  and  I  suj)pose  all  must  drop  off,  leaf  by  leaf  till  that 
fruit  is  matured."  Li  this  spiiit  he  prayed  and  commend- 
ed prayer  ;  hence  came  to  him  the  hght  within.  It  would 
be  to  malign  God,  and  the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit,  to  be 
lieve  that  he  was  led  astray  by  the  hght  in  which  he  walk- 
ed ;  his  faculties  thus  became  almost  passive  in  their  per- 
ceptions. 

The  eye.  it  could  not  choose  but  see. 

He  could  not  bid  the  ear  be  still. 

"With  this  also,  in  all  his  sense  of  misery  arising  fi'om  rela- 
tion to  the  outer  world,  came  the  thought — the  more  than 
thought — the  overwhelming  feeling  and  assurance  that 
God's  idea  of  humanity  always  was  what  humanity  is  in 
Christ.     Thus  he  would  speak  : — 

Dare  to  be  alone  with  God,  my  dear ,  trust  Ilim,  and 

do  not  fear  that  He  will  leave  you  in  darkness  long,  though  His 
light  may  dazzle.  Was  not  He  alone  in  this  world  ? — unfelt, 
uncomj)rehcndcd,  suspected,  spoken  against  ?  And  before  Ilnn 
was  the  cross.  Before  us,  a  little  tea-table  gossip,  and  hands 
uplifted  in  holy  horror.  Alas  !  and  we  call  that  a  cross  to  bear. 
Shame  !  yet  still  I  do  admit  that,  for  a  loving  heart  to  lack  sym- 
pathy, is  worse  than  pain. 

He  maintamed  that  God  could  only  be  seen  in  Christ  ; 
but  certainly  seen  in  Him.  "  That  God's  idea  of  humanity 
ever  was  and  is — humanity  as  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ — that  so 
far  as  it  fails  of  that,  His  idea  may  be  said  to  have  not  been 
realized." 

The  life  of  Christ  and  His  death,  after  all,  are  the  only  truo 


yo  Words  to  Woi'hmgmen. 

Bolution  of  the  mystery  of  human  life ;  to  that,  after  all,  all 
the  discords  of  this  world's  wild  music  must  be  attuned  at 
last.  There  is  sharjo  pain— past  pain-  in  that  letter  which  you 
sent  me,  but  yet,  how  instinctively  one  feels  at  once  that  the  tone 
of  Christianity  is  wantin^r.  I  do  not  mean  the  cant  expressions 
but  the  genuine  tone  which  numbers  of  real  men  and  women 
have  learned  by  heart. 

It  may  be  hereafter  mellowed  into  this  as  I  hope  my  tone 
will ;  but  neither  are  as  yet,  though  I  have  got  what  your  cor- 
respondent has  not.  the  words  of  the  Song ;  only  I  have  not  the 
music.  And  what  are  the  words  without  ?  Yet  it  is  something 
to  feel  the  deep,  deep  conviction,  which  has  never  failed  me  in 
the  darkest  moods,  that  Christ  has  the  key  to  the  mysteries  of 
Life  and  that  they  are  not  insoluble  ;  also,  that  the  SjMric  of  the 
Cross  is  the  condition  which  will  put  any  one  in  possession  of 
the  same  key  :  "  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  find  rest 
for  your  souls."  It  is  something,  much,  to  know  this,  for,  know- 
ing it,  I  feel  it  fo  be  unphilosophical  and  foolish  to  quarrel  with 
my  lot,  for  my  wisdom  is  to  transmute  my  lot  by  meekness  into 
gold.  With  God  I  cannot  quarrel,  for  I  recognize  the  beauty 
and  justice  of  His  conditions.  It  is  a  grand  comfort  to  feel 
that  God  is  right,  v/hatever  and  whoever  else  may  be  wrong. 
I  feel  St.  Paul's  words,  ^'  Let  God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar/' 

The  most  admiraljle  thing  I  noticed  in  his  life  is  the  ho- 
ly and  lofty  spiiit  in  which  he  fi-onted  life.  I  read  his  own 
character  in  the  words  he  used  in  addressing  the  working- 
men  of  Brighton : — 

The  cry  of  "  J/y  rights,  your  duties,"  I  think  we  might  change 
to  something  nobler.  If  we  could  learn  to  say,  •'  Aly  duties, 
your  rights,"  we  should  come  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end ;  but 
the  spirit  would  be  diiTcrent.  That  not  very  dignified  feud  be- 
tween Nal)al  and  David  is  only  a  picture  of  that  which,  hidden 
under  fine  names,  men  are  calling  now  patriotism;  pubhc  spirit, 
political  martyrdom,  protection,  free  trade— miserable  enough 
in  my  mind. 

All  we  are  gaining  by  this  cry  of  Kights,  is  the  Hfe  of  the 
wild  1,rast  and   of  the   mII.I   man  of  the  desert,  whose  hand  is 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Frederich  Holerfson.  71 

against  every  man,  and  every  man's  band  against  him.  Nay, 
the  very  brules,  unless  they  had  an  instinct  Mliich  respec's 
Eights  even  more  strongly  than  it  claims  them,  could  never  form 
anything  like  a  community.  Did  you  never  observe  in  a  herony 
or  rookery  that  the  new-made  nest  is  left  in  perfect  confidence 
by  the  birds  that  built  it  ?  If  the  others  had  not  learned  to 
respect  those  private  and  sacred  Rights,  but  began  to  assert 
each  his  right  to  the  sticks  which  are  woven  toge:  her  there, 
I  fancy  it  would  be  some  time  before  you  could  get  a  herony  or 
a  rookery  ! 

Two  thousand  years  ago,  there  was  One  here  on  this  earth 
who  lived  the  grandest  life  that  ever  has  been  lived  yet,  a  life 
that  every  thinking  man,  with  deej^er  or  shallower  meaning, 
has  agreed  to  call  Divine.  I  read  little  rcspec'ing  His  Rights  or 
His  claims  of  Rights ;  but  I  have  read  a  great  deal  respecting 
His  Duties.  Every  act  He  did  He  called  a  Duty.  I  read  very 
little  in  that  life  respecting  His  Rights  ;  but  I  hear  a  vast  deal 
respecting  His  Wrongs — wrongs  infinite — wrongs  borne  with  a 
majestic.  Godlike  silence.  His  reward  ?  His  reward  was  the 
reward  that  God  gives  to  all  His  true  and  noble  ones — to  be 
cast  out  in  His  day  and  generation,  and  a  life-conferring  death 
at  last.     Those  were  HIS  Rights  ! 

I  have  dwelt  thus  at  lengih  because  I  am  really  deshous 
that  Eobertsoii  should  not  be  misunderstood.  I  can  have 
httle  hesitation  in  saying,  that,  as  in  life,  so  since  his  death 
he  has  been  wickedly  treated,  and  his  views  wickedly  per- 
verted. And  now  we  must  hasten  to  the  close.  He  bore 
his  owTi  j)ersonal  cross,  and  WTought  out  his  work  bravely 
in  Brighton,  until  August,  1853.  There,  some  have  told 
me  what  a  cheerful  thing  it  was  to  see  him  walking  even 
through  the  town ;  his  bright  face,  his  elastic  step,  and  a 
fine  yet  affectionate  bearuig  and  presence,  seemhig  to  do  a 
spectator  good,  while  the  noble,  unclerical  looking  clergy- 
man was  hiuiymg  along  on  his  way.  The  volumes  of  his 
hfe  ^^^ll  reveal  w^hat  was  going  on  in  him  and  with  him  then. 
I  have  implied  that  his  nature  was  really  consumed  by  its 


y2  The  Trials  of  an  Earnest  Minister, 

own  intensity  and  zeal  ;  at  lar,t,  the  fi'ame  fell  down,  worn 
out  by  the  extraordinary  flame  of  soul.  Those  causes 
which  more  immediately  brought  this  about  I  have  not 
time  to  attempt  to  detect  or  put  in  order  and  place  before 
my  hearers.  He  felt  all  unkindness  ;  had  he  been  an  In- 
dependent clergyman,  as  in  many  instances  with  us,  his 
pulpit  would  have  been  filled  for  a  year  or  two  ;  and  he 
would  have  been  sent  to  the  continent,  if  possible,  to  re- 
cruit his  exhausted  nature  ;  but  he  was  unpopular  with  the 
high  and  diy  Church  factions  in  the  tov/n  ;  especially  it 
was  determined  to  make  Brighton  a  perfect  vestibule  to 
Popeiy,  coveiing  it  with  a  network  of  nunneries  and  wo- 
men in  black,  religious  haberdasheries,  and  churches  which 
when  the  spectator  enters,  seem,  by  candles  on  the  altars, 
flowers  and  wreaths,  fald-cloths,  and  aU  the  infinite  raggery 
and  rubbish  of  modem  Tractarianism,  to  transfer  him  in- 
stantly fi'om  Anghcanism  to  Romanism — those  who  loved 
tliis  were  not  hkely  to  s^mipatliise  vdth.  the  fine  appeals  to 
man  as  a  liring  conscience  and  consciousness,  emanating 
from  the  lijDS  of  the  preacher  of  Trinit3^  How  can  men 
whose  long  coui'se  of  vicarage  never  resulted  in  a  single 
ministration  to  a  human  heart,  whose  history  is  only  one 
record  of  hai'd,  incarnate  selfishness,  without  a  single  echo 
of  one  loving  heai-t,  breaking  the  monotonous  and  desert 
solitude  of  then'  own  di'eaiy,  unmeaning,  do-nothing  career 
either  know  or  sympathise  with  such  men  as  Robertson  ? 
Mr.  Robertson  aj^i^omted  his  curate  to  relieve  him  of  his 
burdens  while  his  hfe  was  wasting  and  his  heart  breaking  : 
the  vicar  possessed  the  legal  power  of  putting  an  interdict 
on  Mr.  Robertson's  choice.  We  can  understand  the  natiu'- 
al  dislike  a  man  like  the  'vdcar  of  Brighton  would  feel  to- 
wards a  man  like  the  minister  of  Trinity  ;  in  addition  to 
this,  it  seems  the  vicar  had  some  personal  dislike  to  the 
clergyman  Mr.  Robertson  had  appointed  ;  the  vicar,  no 
doubt,  knew  his  opportunity.     The  very  prcf-cnce  of  Rob- 


Pulpit  MonograpliS :  Frederick  liolert son.  73 

ertson  in  the  town  to  a  man  capable  of  the  career  of  the 
vicar  of  Brighton,  must  have  been  as  unpleasant  as  the 
voice  of  John  the  Baptist  to  Herod.  Now  was  the  mo- 
ment ;  Robei-tson  could  not  loreach — of  course  he  could 
not  yield — he  was  compelled  to  relinquish  Trinity.  That 
scene,  no  doubt,  in-wi-ought  v^ith  a  host  of  affectionate 
memories,  where  so  many  of  the  most  illustrious  and  gift- 
ed had  hung  upon  his  eloquent  lijDS,  of  eveiy  order  of  rank, 
and  of  every  gi'ade  of  spii'itual  and  moral  excellence,  had 
to  be  relinquished  ;  the  desk,  hallowed  by  the  gift  and 
prayers  of  the  servant  giiis,  the  classes  of  the  young  men, 
the  members  of  his  congregi^ation,  some  of  them  gifted  wo- 
men, related  to  him  by  the  gi-eat  bond  and  tie  of  useful  life 
and  labor — all  this  had  to  go  ;  in  fact,  Robertson  was  sa- 
crificed to  the  much-lauded  p)arochial  system  of  the  Church 
of  England.  It  was  the  parochial  system  of  the  Church 
of  England  which  prevented  that  fine  life  fi'om  expiring  in 
the  harness  of  its  uses  and  afifections.  Some  misconcep- 
tions seem  to  have  spread  about  his  death  which  may,  per- 
haps, be  cleared  up  by  the  closing  pages  of  his  memoii*. 
With  patience,  thoughtfulness,  and  faith,  he  trod  along 
that  dark  valley  he  had  so  often  sought  to  illuminate  for 
others.  I  am  glad  to  beheve  that  his  humble  trust  never 
deserted  him ;  God,  Christ,  and  immortality  were  sustain- 
ing thoughts  to  him.  He  felt  still  the  beauty  of  the  outer 
world  he  had  loved  so  much,  the  beauty  which  had  made 
his  heart  ache  so  much.  "When  scai'cely  able  to  move,  a 
day  or  two  before  he  died,  he  got  up  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  crept  to  the  window,  to  see,  as  he  said,  "  the 
beautiful  morning."  A  night  or  two  before  his  death,  he 
di*eamed  that  his  two  sisters,  long  since  dead,  came  to 
crown  him  :  "  I  saw  them,"  he  said  eamestl}'.  All  rever- 
ent kindnesses  were  heaped  aromid  his  d^dng  bed  ;  "  how 
different,"  he  said,  "  the  lot  of  Him  who  would  fain  have 
slaked  His  morning  hunger  TNith  gi-ecn  figs."     His  dear  and 

fECOND   SERIES.  4 


74 


Dle^  at  the  Fatal  Thirty-Seven. 


attached  friend,  Lady  Byron,  left  a  sick  bed  to  see  him  ; 
but  was  pemiittcd  only  to  be  ^vith  him  a  few  moments.  At 
last  came  the  day  ;  it  was  on  a  Simday,  the  15th  of  Au- 
gust, 1853.  Shocks  of  intense  pam,  unbearable  in  agony, 
came  upon  him  ;  feebly  crying  at  intervals,  "  My  God,  my 
Father !  my  God,  my  Father !  "  he  fought  out  the  battle, 
which  sooner  or  later,  all  have  to  fight.  This  lasted  for 
two  houi-s,  dm-ing  wliich  period,  however,  he  never  lost  his 
clear  consciousness.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  his  mother, 
the  "  my  dear  httle  mother,"  the  "  dear  little  motherette  " 
of  his  letters,  and  his  wife,  and  one  fiiend,  \Ai\\  his  physi- 
cian, watched  over  him.  Wlien  they  sought  to  rehevc  him 
by  changing  his  position,  he  could  not  endure  the  touch  : 
"I  can  not  bear  it,"  he  said,  "let  me  rest,  I  must  die  ;  let 
God  do  His  work."  They  were  his  last  words  ;  immedi- 
ately afterwards,  a  few  minutes  past  midnight,  all  was  over. 
Fatal  thirty-seven  !  The  age  of  Byron,  the  age  of  Bums, 
the  age  of  Baphael,  and  of  what  a  long  procession  descend- 
ing into  the  tomb  in  the  prime  of  then-  majesty,  the  fulness 
of  theu'  insight  and  vision !  I  am  glad  now  to  see,  beneath 
the  steady  light  of  that  midnight  lamp,  the  quiet  which 
sheds  itself  over  the  featui^es  of  the  d^ing  saint. 

Brighton  knew  how  to  appreciate  its  loss.  It  had  been 
resolved  that  the  funeral  should  be  private  ;  but  it  soon 
became  manifest  that  this  would  be  almost  impossible.  The 
circmnstances  of  his  death  too,  the  harsh,  legal  cnielty  of 
the  vicar,  roused  the  spmt  of  the  town.  The  congi-egation 
of  the  dex:)arted  clergyman,  of  course,  desired  to  follow  his 
remains  ;  a  number  of  local  societies,  and  Jews,  Unita- 
lians,  Roman  Cathohcs,  Quakers,  and  Chiu'chmen,  followed 
to  his  tomb  this  noble  gentleman,  this  ardent  Christian 
juinister,  this  saintly  and  gifted  man.  All  the  shops  were 
closed  in  the  hne  of  the  procession  ;  the  principal  trades- 
men assumed  mourning,  and  all  sects  and  classes  merged 
thcii*  differences  in  a  common  grief  ai'ound  the  grave  so 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Frederick  Robertson .  7^ 

honored — to  oiu*  tlioiiglit,  so  premature.  It  surely  should 
be  a  lesson  veiy  helpful  and  suggestive,  not  only  that  "  he 
being  dead  yet  speaketh," — but  really  he  did  not  begin  to 
speak  fi'om  his  present  influential  platfoiTQ  at  all  until  after 
Brighton,  suddenly  smitten  with  an  astonishing  sorrow, 
followed  him,  in  long  procession,  to  his  gi*ave  in  the  hollow 
of  the  Downs  he  loved  so  much  ;  and  it  surely  adds  some- 
thing to  the  pathos  of  that  procession  to  know,  as  I  have 
gathered  from  residents  in  the  town,  how  among  the  fol- 
lowers was  one  remarkable  lady,  wendmg  her  way  on  foot 
— Lady  Byron — who  would  not  go  in  her  carriage  ; 
"imwoi-thy,"  as  she  said,  "to  ride  after  such  remains." 

It  is  the  story  of  one  whom  many  call  the  Arnold  of  the 
pulpit,  where  he  signalized  himself  as  that  gi-eat  man  did 
in  the  schoolroom.  Truth,  I  hope  real  to  my  own  convic- 
tions, presents  itscK  in  many  aspects  differently  to  those  in 
which  it  was  beheld  by  Kobertson :  but  ilie  man — his  earn- 
estness—his reahty — his  consecrated  genius — his  self- 
denial — ^his  sympathj^ — his  w^onderful  glances  into  the 
places  from  whence,  before  his  vision,  not  only  the  obscure 
flies,  but  gives  place  to  unexpected  and  reconciling  hght — 
his  nobihty  and  his  tenderness — aU  unite  together  to  seize 
on  the  imagination,  and  to  quicken  and  impart  life  to  all 
who  come  beneath  the  spell  of  his  influence.  Does  he  not 
seem  to  thee  perfect  ?  Oh,  art  thou  perfect  ?  Have  we 
not  often  said  our  gothic  architecture  is  a  thiug  of  subUme 
incongruities,  contradictions  and  deformities,  but  how 
sublime  ;  and,  to  generations  long  beyond  the  present,  wiU 
be  not  only  fascinating,  but  helping  in  some  of  the  deepest 
needs  and  wants  of  the  soul,  the  life-giving  words  and 
character  of  Frederick  Robertson. 

As  specimens  of  preparation  for  the  pulpit,  the  seimons 
of  Mr.  Robertson  are  very   instinctive  to  preachers.*    I 

'^  Sermons,  Preached  at  Trinity  CJiapel,  Brighton.  By  the  Rev. 
Frederick  W.  Robertson,  M.  A. 


76       Qualiii)  ami  Character  of  his  Sermcrns. 

understand  none  of  them  to  have  been  prepared  for  the 
press,  perhax:)H  f(3W  prepared  with  any  idea  to  another  eye 
than,  that  of  the  preacher.  Some  are  recollections,  notes 
taken  down  by  fiiends,  fragmentary  and  incomplete,  yet 
with  chrcctncss  and  earnest  practicalness  of  aim,  and,  for 
the  most  part,  unmistakable  transparency  of  meaning. 
Now,  I  suspect,  had  IVIr.  Eobertson  prepared  more  elab- 
orately, with  a  nice  eye  to  finish  ;  had  he  brought  his 
cultiu-ed  and  fastithous  taste  to  bear  upon  these  composi- 
tions, so  far  fi'om  increasing  ia  power,  their  efficacy  would 
have  been  almost  lost.  He  seems  to  have  resolved  his 
topics,  and  to  have  used  his  notes,  chiefly,  for  the  pui-pose 
of  giving  fi-eedom  to  his  own  mind.  As  we  have  intimated, 
a  fi'agmentary  character  attaches  to  most  of  the  sermons — 
paragrai^hs  unfinished,  words  penned  evidently  to  awaken 
and  re-collect  within  the  j^reacher's  mind  the  cham  of 
thought,  association,  and  discourse — fi'om  this  broken  and 
incontinuous  character  of  composition,  it  is,  we  feel,  that 
we  cannot,  even  m  any  very  adequate  sense,  know^  the 
mind  of  Robertson.  His  bright  glance  rapidly  pierced  the 
recesses  of  subjects  hither  and  thither.  Then  he  returned 
into  himself  and  mused  ;  then  the  fire  bumed,  and  he 
shot  forth  those  flakes  of  living  speech  which  do  not  al- 
ways seem  j^ai-t  of  a  synmictrical  whole.  That,  too,  which 
is  put  upon  paper  might  be  so  incomplete  compared  with 
that  which  the  preacher  intended  it  should  be,  when  the 
va-itton  word  of  the  pen  became  the  uttered  word  of  the 
tongue.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  shoi-t  pai'agi-aph — it  is 
the  close  of  the  sermon  on  the  appointment  of  the  first 
kuig  in  Israel,  and  the  preacher  finds  a  lesson  w^hich  looks 
out  ujion  the  evanescence  of  human  life. 

A  very  pregnant  lesson.  Life  passes,  work  is  ])ermancnt.  It 
is  all  going — ileeluig  and  withering.  Youtli  goes.  ]Mind  de- 
cays. That  which  is  done  remains.  Through  ages,  through 
etcrnitv,  what  vo.i   have  (h)ne  lor  Gotl,  that,  onlv  that,  vou  arc. 


Pulpit  ^lonograjylts :  Frederick  Robertson,  jj 

Ye  that  are  workers,  and  count  it  the  soul's  worst  disgrace  to 
feel  life  passing  in  idleness  and  uselessness,  take  courage.  Deeds 
never  die. 

Now  tliis  is  surely  a  truth  stated  veiy  boldly.  SujB&cicnt 
for  a  preacher's  note-book — certainly  not  sufficient  for  a 
reader.  Mr.  Eobertson  says,  "Mind  decays,  4t  is  fleeting 
and  withering  as  life,'  we  are  only  what  we  have  done  for 
God  ;  deeds  only  never  die."'  If  ]\Ii'.  Robertson  were  with 
us,  we  suppose,  he  would  say,  while  we  ventured  to  point 
his  attention  to  such  a  paragraph : — "  You  Imow  you  are 
attributing  to  it  a  meaning  I  never  mtended  ;  I  never 
meant  to  get  rid  of  the  fact  of  man's  substantive  being." 
I  do  not  suppose  that  when  he  asserts  the  perj^etuity  of 
deeds  and  then-  consequences,  that  Mr.  Eobertson  intends 
to  deny  to  man  the  possession  of  an  inherent  and  an  im- 
mortal consciousness.  The  sentence,  in  fact,  was  never 
intended  to  be  printed ;  it  was  simply  a  succession  of  catch- 
w^ords  to  the  preacher  for  his  pulpit.  I  suppose  that  fi'om 
many  such  sentences  he  suffers  in  a  similar  w^ay ;  readers 
forming  impressions  of  what  the  man  really  was,  from 
broken  hints  and  fragmentary  words.  Moreover,  with  the 
greatest  respect  we  should  say  it,  esj^ecially  in  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  rare  dehght  these  posthumous  works  have 
given  to  us  and  to  thousands,  we  have  sometimes  won- 
dered whether  so  \igilant,  and  reverent  a  conscientious- 
ness has  presided  over  the  executorship  of  these  remams 
as  there  ought  to  have  been.  Would  Robertson  lumself 
have  ever  sanctioned  the  publication  of  the  notes  /;i 
Memoriam  ? 

I  must  make  up  my  mind  that  the  whole  of  Frederick 
Robertson  cannot  be  known  ;  his  mind,  too,  was  essentially 
of  an  order  that  does  not  shape  itself  into  system,  or  the 
system  may  be  there,  but  the  mind  does  not  know  itself. 
It  is  like  some  wonderful  organism  out  of  sight.  There 
are  minds,  hke  men  observing  the  heavens,  they  see  con- 


yS  ^^"^^•^*  ^^^'^^  Theolo(j]j  Symmetrical? 

stellations  dii^  and  constellations  rise,  because  they  look 
intently  and  earnestly ;  the  heavens  present  different 
aspects  on  different  nights  ;  or  they  visit  different  latitudes, 
and  so  become  possessed  of  different  scenic  effects  in  the 
celestial  spaces.  It  is  so  with  men  who  watch  the  "  heavenly 
places"  and  states  of  the  human  soul,  while,  to  some,  all 
exiDcriences  are  one  and  the  same ;  to  such  men  no  expe- 
riences are  possessed  of  sameness  ;  they  aU  have  essential 
differences,  while  they  are  all  illustrative  of  the  great  life 
of  God  in  the  human  soul.  It,  perhaps,  would  have  been 
a  very  difficult  thing  for  Coleridge  to  shape  his  spiiitual 
observations  and  rmninations  into  one  consistent  Cosmos  ; 
it  is  certainly  a  difficult  thing  for  any  one  fi'om  his  Friend x, 
Aids  to  lie  fleet  ion,  and  Table- Talk,  to  do  it  for  him.  The 
gloiy  of  the  man  was  his  marvellous  super-fecundity  of 
thought,  hfe,  and  vision,  and  very  much  of  this  is  the 
power  of  Robertson's  sermons,  they  are  Hving  and  they 
give  life  to  souls,  they  shoot  theii*  own  voHtions  and 
thoughts  into  the  minds  of  men  ;  possessing  in  an  eminent 
degi'ee  that  power  of  expressing  pregnant  truths — tiiiths, 
not  only  time  in  themselves,  but  w^hich  illustrate  and  con- 
form together  other  truths — truths,  which,  like  dayhght, 
not  only  give  hght  to  our  own  room,  but  enable  us  to  look 
upon  the  world  without,  wliich  is  just  the  difference  be- 
tween tnith  fi'om  a  sectarian  jjoint  of  view,  which  is  a 
most  useful,  and  by  no  means  to  be  despised  pai'lor-lamp 
or  candle  ; — and  truth  from  the  Church  point  of  view, 
which  is  like  the  sun,  a  light  for  aU  the  households  of  the 
iiniverse.  His  views  of  the  atonement  are  not  mine  ;  he 
seems  to  me,  and  I  say  it  with  great  respect,  pai'tly,  be- 
cause in  the  memoiy  that  he  is  no  longer  with  us,  and 
partly,  because  I  am  disposed,  fi'om  the  reasons  I  have 
mentioned,  to  doubt  how  far  we  have  a  perfect  view  of 
his  mind — he  seems  to  us,  I  say,  however,  to  plant  the  fact 
of  the  atonement  less  on  what  God  has  done  for  the  world 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Fredeviclc  JRohertson.  79 

than  on  what  man  is  doing  in  the  way  of  sacrifice  and 
atonement  for  himself.  Is  not  the  following,  now,  a  defec- 
tive statement  of  the  thing  ? 

My  Cliristian  bretlircn,  hell  is  not  merely  a  thing  hereafter, 
hell  is  a  thing  here ;  hell  is  not  a  thing  banished  to  the  far 
distance,  it  is  ubiquitous  as  conscience.  Wherever  there  is  a 
worm  of  undying  remorse,  the  sense  of  having  done  wrong,  and 
a  feeling  of  degradation,  there  is  hell  begun.  And  now  respect- 
ing this.  These  words,  "  banishment  from  God,"  "  alienation," 
though  merely  popular  phrases,  are  expressions  of  a  deep  truth, 
— it  is  true  they  are  lut  popular  expressions,  for  God  is  not 
wrath.  You  are  not  absolutely  banished  from  God's  Presence. 
The  Immutable  changes  not.  He  does  not  become  angry  or 
passionate  whenever  one  of  the  eight  hundred  million  inhab- 
itants of  this  world  commits  a  sin.  And  yet  you  will  observe 
there  is  no  other  way  in  which  we  can  express  the  truth  but  in 
these  popular  words.  Take  the  illustration  furnished  to  us  last 
Sunday  :  it  may  be  that  it  is  the  cloud  and  the  mist  that  obscure 
the  sun  from  us  ;  the  sun  is  not  changed  in  consequence  ;  it  is  a 
change  in  our  atmosphere.  But  if  the  philosopher  says  to  you, 
the  sun  in  its  splendor  remains  the  same  in  the  infinite  space 
above,  it  is  only  an  optical  delusion  which  makes  it  appear 
lurid:  to  what  purpose  is  that  difference  to  you ?  to  you  it  is 
lurid,  to  you  it  is  dark.  If  you  feci  a  darkness  in  your  eye, 
coldness  in  your  flesh,  to  what  purpose,  so  fiir  as  feeling  is  con- 
cerned, is  it  that  philosophy  tells  you  the  sun  remains  unchanged? 
And  if  it  be  that  God  in  the  heaven  above  remains  Love  still, 
and  that  Love  warms  not  your  heart,  and  that  God  is  Light,  in 
whom  is  no  darkness  at  all— yet  He  shines  not  in  your  heart : 
my  Christian  brethren,  let  metaphysics  and  philosophy  say  what 
they  will,  these  popular  expressions  are  the  true  ones  after  all ; 
to  you  God  is  angry,  from  God  you  are  banished,  God's  counte- 
nance is  alienated  from  you. 

AH  true  without  any  doubt,  but  not  comi)letely  true — 
leaving  out  of  sight  what  God  does  on  His  own  part  to 
reconcile  His  own  character  with  man's  salvation — in  fact, 
with  the    most  beautiful  and  elevating  views  of    Chiist, 


8o      -///'•>'  '^tr/jioiiH  OR  Scripture  Characters. 

and  the  most  siibduiug  and  lovable  views  of  God,  there  is 
in  Mr.  Robertson's  system  the  want  of  that  element  which 
meets  us  alike  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  ;  which,  to 
quote  his  own  language  in  the  extract  we  have  just  made, 
whatever  it  may  be  in  itself,  is  wrath  to  us,  and  ruin,  and 
condenmation,  but  for  the  supernatural  means  which  God 
appoints,  passing  through  the  fire  to  stay  the  wrath  of  the 
fire  and  by  "the  law  of  the  s^^iritof  life  in  Chiist  Jesus," 
to  overcome  "  the  law  of  sin  and  death." 

It  is  in  his  sermons  on  Scrij)ture  characters  in  which  the 
preacher  so  eminently  displays  his  powder  of  using  the  old 
biogi-aphic  story  for  the  j)urpos3  of  miwinding  the  history 
of  the  human  heart  in  any  age.  The  sermon  on  the  Char- 
ader  of  FAi,  and  the  Calling  of  Samuel,  is  a  beautiful  illus- 
tration of  this.  From  several  illustrations  we  take  two  or 
three.  The  following  passage  on  the  docility  of  Eli  before 
the  teaching  of  the  insx^ired  lad  is  very  beautiful,  and  all 
in  ]Mi*.  Robertson's  style. 

Eli  might  with  ease  have  assumed  the  priestly  tone.  When 
Samuel  came  with  his  strange  story,  that  he  had  heard  a  voice 
calling  to  him  in  the  dark,  Eli  might  have  fixed  u23on  him  a 
clear,  cold,  unsympathizing  eye  and  said,  "  This  is  excitement — 
mere  entlmsiasm.  I  am  the  appointed  channel  of  God's  commu- 
nications, I  am  the  priest.  Hear  the  Church,  Unordained, 
unanointed  with  priestly  oil,  a  boy,  a  child,  it  is  presumption  for 
you  to  pretend  to  communications  from  Jehovah  !  A  layman 
lias  no  right  to  hear  Voices ;  it  is  fanaticism."  Eli  might  have 
done  this  ;  he  would  have  only  done  what  ordained  men  have 
done  a  thousand  times  when  they  have  frowned  irregular  en- 
thusiasm into  dissent.  And  tlien  Samuel  would  have  become  a 
mystic,  or  a  self-relying  enthusiast.  For  he  could  not  have 
been  made  to  think  that  the  Voice  was  a  delusion.  That  Voice 
no  priest's  frown  could  prevent  his  hearing.  On  the  other 
hand,  Eh  miglit  have  given  his  own  authoritative  interpretation 
to  Samuel,  of  that  word  of  God  which  he  had  heard.  But  sup- 
pose that  interi>retation  had  been  wrong  ! 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Fredeviclc  Ilohertson.   8 


Eli  did  neither  of  these  things.  He  sent  Samuel  to  God.  lie 
taught  him  to  inquire  for  himself.  He  did  not  tell  him  to  reject 
as  fanaticism  the  belief  that  an  inner  Voice  was  speaking  to 
liim,  a  boy;  nor  did  lie  try  to  force  his  own  interpretation  on 
that  Voice.  His  great  care  was  to  put  Samuel  in  direct  com- 
munication with  God ;  to  make  him  listen  to  God  ;  nay,  and 
that  independently  of  him,  Eli.  Not  to  rule  him  ;  not  to  direct 
his  feelings  and  belief;  not  to  keep  him  in  the  leading-strings 
of  spiritual  childhood,  but  to  teach  him  to  walk  alone. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  men  who  exercise  influence.  The  first 
are  those  who  perpetuate  their  own  opinions,  bequeath  their 
own  names,  form  a  sect,  gather  a  party  round  them  who  speak 
their  words,  believe  their  belief.  Such  men  were  the  ancient 
Rabbis.  And  of  such  men,  in  and  out  of  the  Church,  we  have 
abundance  now.  It  is  the  influence  most  aimed  at  and  most 
loved.  The  second  class  is  composed  of  those  who  stir  up 
faith,  conscience,  thought,  to  do  their  own  work.  They  are  not 
anxious  that  those  they  teach  should  think  as  they  do,  but  that 
they  should  thinl\  Nor  that  they  should  take  this  or  that  rule 
of  right  or  wrong,  but  that  they  should  be  conscientious.  Nor 
that  they  should  adopt  their  own  views,  of  God,  but  that  faith 
in  God  should  be  roused  in  earnest.  Such  men  propagate  not 
many  views;  but  they  jDropagate  Life  itself  in  inquiring  minds 
and  earnest  hearts. 

Now  this  is  God's  real  best  work.  j\Ien  do  not  think  so. 
They  like  to  be  guided.  They  ask,  what  am  I  to  think  ?  and 
what  am  I  to  believe  ?  and  what  am  I  to  feel  ?  Make  it  easy 
for  me.  Save  me  the  trouble  of  reflecting  and  the  anguish  of 
inquiring.  It  is  very  easy  to  do  this  for  them ;  but  from  what 
minds,  and  from  what  books,  do  we  really  gain  most  of  that 
which  we  can  really  call  our  own  ?  From  those  that  are  sug- 
gestive, from  those  that  kindle  life  within  us,  and  set  us  think- 
ing, and  call  conscience  into  action — not  from  those  that  exhaust 
a  subject  and  seem  to  leave  it  threadbare,  but  from  those  that 
make  us  feel  there  is  a  vast  deal  more  in  that  subject  yet,  and 
send  us  as  Eli  sent  Samuel,  into  the  dark  Infinite  to  listen  for 
ourselves. 

And  this  is  the  Ministry  and  its  work — not  to  drill  hearts, 
4* 


g2  J^li  and  Samuel. 

and  minds,  and  consciences,  into  right  forms  of  tliouglit  and 
mental  postures,  but  to  guide  to  tlie  Living  God  who  speaks. 
It  is  a  thankless  work ;  for  as  I  have  said,  men  love  to  have  all 
their  religion  done  out  for  them.  They  want  something 
definite,  and  sharp,  and  clear — words— not  the  life  of  God  in 
the  soul ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  far  more  flattering  to  our  vanity  to 
have  men  take  our  views,  represent  us,  be  led  by  us.  Eule  is 
dear  to  all.  To  rule  men's  spirit  is  the  work  of  every  true  priest 
of  God,  to  lead  men  to  think  and  feel  for  themselves — to  open 
their  ears  that  God  may  speak.  Eli  did  this  part  of  his  work 
in  a  true  spirit.  lie  guided  Samuel,  trained  his  character, 
•'But  God's  spirit,"  Eli  says,  "  I  cannot  give  that.  God's  voice  ! 
I  am  not  God's  voice.  I  am  only  God's  witness,  erring,  listen- 
ing for  myself  I  am  here,  God's  witness,  to  saj- — God 
speaks.  I  may  err — let  God  be  true.  Let  me  be  a  liar  if  you 
will.  My  mission  is  done  when  your  ear  is  opened  fur  God  to 
whisper  into."  Very  true,  Eli  was  superseded.  Very  true,  his 
work  was  done.  A  new  set  of  views,  not  his,  respecting  Israel's 
policy  and  national  life,  were  to  be  propagated  by  his  successor ; 
but  it  was  Eli  that  guided  that  successor  to  God  who  gave  the 
views ;  and  Eli  had  not  lived  in  vain.  My  brethren,  if  any 
man  or  any  body  of  men  stand  between  us  and  the  living  God, 
saying,  "  Only  through  us — the  Church — can  you  approach 
God ;  only  through  my  consecrated  touch  can  you  receive 
grace;  only  through  my  ordained  teaching  can  you  hear  God's 
voice  ;  and  the  voice  which  speaks  in  your  soul  in  the  still  mo- 
ments of  exiiiteuce  is  no  revelation  from  God,  but  a  delusion  and 
a  fanaticism" — that  man  is  a  false  priest.  To  bring  the  soul 
face  to  face  with  God,  and  supersede  ourselves,  that  is  the  work 
of  the  Christian  ministry. 

There  was  in  Eli  a  resolve  to  know  the  whole  truth.  "  AVhat 
is  the  thing  that  the  Lord  hath  said  unto  thee  ?  I  pray  thee 
hide  it  not  from  me  ;  God  do  so  to  thee,  and  more  also,  if  thou 
hide  anything  from  me  of  all  the  things  that  he  said  unto  thee." 
Eli  asked  in  earnest  to  know  the  worst. 

It  would  be  a  blessed  thing  to  know  what  God  thinks  of  us. 
Hut  next  best  to  this  would  be  to  see  ourselves  in  the  light  in 
which  we  appear  to  others:  other  men's  oj^inion  is  a  mirror  in 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Frederick  Robertson.   83 

which  we  learn  to  see  ourselves.  It  keeps  us  humble  when  bad 
and  good  alike  are  known  to  us.  The  worst  slander  has  in  it 
some  truth  from  which  we  may  learn  a  lesson  which  may  make 
us  wiser  when  the  first  smart  is  passed. 

Therefore  it  is  a  blessing  to  have  a  friend  like  Samuel,  who 
can  tell  us  truth,  judicious,  candid,  wise ;  one  to  whom  we  can 
say,  "Now  tell  me  what  I  am,  and  what  I  seem  ;  hide  nothing, 
but  tell  me  the  worst."  But,  observe,  we  are  not  to  beg  praise 
or  invite  censure — that  were  weak.  We  are  not  to  ask  for  every 
malicious  criticism  or  tormenting  report — that  were  hypochon- 
dria, ever  suspecting,  and  ever  self-tormenting;  and  to  that 
diseased  sensibility  it  would  be  no  man's  duty  to  minister. 
True  friendship  will  not  retail  tormenting  trifles  ;  but  what  we 
want  is  one  friend  at  least,  who  will  extenuate  nothing,  but 
with  discretion  tell  the  worst,  using  unflinchingly  the  sharp 
knife  which  is  to  cut  av,^ay  the  fault. 

In  a  very  dififerent  style  is  the  following  paragraph  upon 
the  j)ersonal  power  of  the  Bible — a  topic  often  treated,  but 
upon  which  Mr.  Eobertson,  of  course,  could  nob  ex^Dres^ 
himself  as  others  had  expressed  themselYes  before. 

This  collection  of  books  has  been  to  the  world  what  no  other 
book  has  ever  been  to  nation.  States  have  been  founded  on  its 
principles.  Kings  rule  by  a  compact  based  on  it.  Men  hold 
the  Bible  in  their  hands  when  they  prepare  to  give  solemn 
evidence  affecting  life,  death,  or  jDroperty;  the  sick  man  is  al- 
most afraid  to  die  unless  the  Book  be  within  reach  of  his 
hands ;  the  battle-ship  goes  into  action  with  one  on  board 
whose  office  is  to  expound  it ;  its  prayers,  its  psalms  are  the 
language  which  we  use  when  we  speak  to  God ;  eighteen  cen- 
turies have  found  no  holier,  no  diviner  language.  If  ever  there 
has  been  a  prayer  or  a  hymn  enshrined  in  the  heart  of  a  nation, 
you  are  sure  to  find  its  basis  in  the  Bible.  There  is  no  ne\v 
religious  idea  given  lo  the  world,  but  it  is  merely  the  develop- 
ment of  something  given  in  the  Bible.  The  very  translation 
of  it  has  fixed  language  and  settled  the  idioms  of  speech. 
Germany  and  England  speak  as  they  speak  because  the  Bible 
was  translated.  It  has  made  the  most  illiterate  peasant  more 
familiar  with   the   history,  customs,  and   geography  of  ancient 


Sa.  Unfinished  Vieivs  of  Trutli. 

Palestine,  than  with  the  localities  of  his  own  country.  Men 
who  know  nothinii^  of  the  Grampians,  of  Snowdon,  or  of  Skid- 
daw,  are  at  home  in  Zicn,  the  lake  of  Gennesaret,  or  among  the 
rills  of  Carmel.  People  who  know  little  about  London  know 
by  heart  the  places  in  Jerusalem,  where  those  blessed  feet  trod 
which  were  nailed  to  the  Cross.  Men  who  know  nothing  of  the 
architecture  of  a  Christian  cathedral  can  yet  tell  you  all  about 
the  pattern  of  the  Holy  Temple.  Even  this  shows  us  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Bible.  The  orator  holds  a  thousand  men  for  half- 
an-hour  breathless— a  thousand  men  as  one,  listening  to  his 
single  word.  But  this  Word  of  God  has  held  a  thousand 
nations  for  thrice  a  thousand  years  spell-bound ;  held  them  by 
an  abiding  power,  even  the  universality  of  its  truth ;  and  we 
feel  it  to  be  no  more  a  collection  of  books,  but  tlie  Book. 

This  i^aragrapli  occui'S  in  a  sermon  on  Inspii'ation, 
which  I  have  no  hesitation  in  characterising  as  very  incom- 
plete and  contradictoiy.  He  tells  ns,  for  mstance,  to  "get 
the  habit — a  glorious  one — of  referring  aU  to  Christ 
throughout  the  Scriptures  ; "  and  of  the  Old  Testament  he 
says,  "Chiist  is  perfectly,  all  that  eveiy  saint  was  par- 
tially ; "  yet  of  Christ  in  the  Old  Testament,  he  says, 
"  nothing  is  more  miserable  as  sj^ecimens  of  perverted  in- 
genuity, than  the  attempts  of  certain  commentators  and 
preachers,  to  find  remote,  and  recondite,  and  intended 
allusions  to  Christ  eveiywhere."  I  have  referred  to  topics 
like  these,  because  I  would  not  be  supposed  to  be  bhnd  to 
some  points  in  the  preacher's  teaching,  with  which  I  have 
no  sympathy.  But  it  is  easier  to  trace  the  s^Tumetry  and 
order  in  the  nutshell  we  desiderate  in  the  vast  proportions 
of  some  huge  tix)pical  tree,  and  a  free  mind  must  fi'equently 
have  phases  very  offensive  to  a  naiTOW  one.  He  was  a 
preacher  little  known  beyond  the  cu'cle  of  his  own  pulpit 
influence  in  his  life,  but  who  held  within  his  mind  a  power 
of  mystical  and  subtle  insight — a  fi-ee  and  glowing  and  un- 
artificial  eloquence — an  eloquence  of  diction — a  power  of 
expressing  to  men  and  women  their  manifold  thoughts, 


Pulpit  Mo'iiGgraplis  :  Frederick  Icolerison.   8  c 

and  meeting  on  simplest  gi'ouncl  the  cultured  and  educated 
classes,  by  the  exjn-ession  of  s^Tn^^athics — the  common 
property  of  all,  and  uniting  together  the  charms  of  good- 
ness and  greatness  dming  the  period  of  a  brief  ministry 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  him,  if  not  the  first  of  all, 
yet  one  of  the  three  or  four  really  great  Enghsh  preachers 
of  our  time. 


II. 


On  Arrangement  of  Texts  by 
Division. 


HAVE  already  said  that  sermons  sliould  have 
bones — should  be  structural,  architectural,  or 
rather  anatomical — most  certainly  they  should  bo 
this  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  how  necessary  to 
give  to  the  skeleton  muscles,  flesh,  blood,  nerves,  a  heart, 
and  lungs  !  No  skeleton  moves  itself,  or  will  affect  any 
other  way  than  unpleasantly  if  unclothed  ;  I  come,  there- 
fore, to  the  method  of  sermons.  Perhai)s  this  lecture 
should  have  anticij)ated  that  of  last  w^eek,  and  should  have 
been  preceded  by  that  on  texts.  I  surely  need  not  say 
to  you  that  to  have  any  efficiency  you  must  have  method  ; 
in  fact  this  is  the  new  life  of  logic,  it  is  the  science  of 
arrangement ;  if  I  ought  not  rather  to  say  that  aU  science 
is  simply  arrangement ;  organization,  order.  You  have 
heard,  I  dare  say,  that  method  is  formal  or  cr^^tic — that 
i.-i,  visible  and  obvious,  latent,  hidden — effective  for  liis 
pui-poses,  but  within  the  preacher's  mind  ;  throughout  the 
whole  sermon,  there  should  be  the  last,  for  your  own 
l)encfit,  that  you  know  whore  to  fall  back,  and  where  to 
find  the  topic  of  your  thought ;  for  the  benefit  of  your 
(86) 


On  uirrangement  of  Texts  hy  Division.       87 

hearers,  there  should  be  the  first.  I  might  refer  you  to 
the  Morning  Exercises^  for  some  ilhistrations  of  the  ridic- 
ulous exercises  of  divisions.  Among  those  exercises,  most 
of  them,  with  all  their  excellences,  lie  open  to  this  great 
exception,  that  they  confuse  and  tax  the  hearer's  memory 
with  thirty,  forty,  or  sixty  particulars  ;  there  is  a  sermon 
by  Thomas  Lye,  on  1  Cor.  vi.  17,  "the  terms  of  which," 
he  says,  "  I  shall  endeavor  gvv  Geo),  clearly  to  explain." 
This  he  does  in  thiiiti  jMrticuIars,  for  the  fij:ing  of  it  on  a 
right  basis,  and  then  adds  fifty-six  more  to  exjyiain  the  subject, 
in  all  eighty-six.  And  what  makes  it  the  more  astonishing, 
is  liis  introduction  to  all  these,  which  is  this,  "  Having  thus 
beaten  up  and  levelled  our  way  to  the  text,  I  shall  not 
stand  to  shred  the  words  into  any  unnecessary  parts,  but 
shall  extract  out  of  them  such  an  obsei-i^ation  as  I  con- 
ceive strikes  a  full  eight  to  the  mind  of  the  Sj^irit  of 
God."  And  in  the  same  volume  Dr.  Roger  Drake  intro- 
duces into  a  discourse  above  one  hundred  and  seventy  par- 
ticidars,  and  yet  says,  "  he  passed  by  sundi-y  useful  jDoints, 
pitching  only  on  that  which  comprehended  the  marrow  and 
the  substance."  Well  might  Robinson  remark  upon  this 
style  that,  did  any  one  adopt  it,  how  it  would  be  like  the 
goodly  sight  of  the  man  of  modern  times  di^essed  hke  a 
Druid  ;  at  any  rate,  we  may  say,  the  steel  corslet,  the  buff 
jerkin,  or  the  slashed  doublet  of  a  later  time. 

I  do  not  think  you  are  at  all  in  danger  of  running  into 
these  absui'd  extremes,  but  there  are  others.  John  Ed- 
wards says  : — f 

They  are  people  that  rack  their  fancies  and  the  texts  together, 
they  stretch  and  scrue  the  words,  they  tease  and  worry,  they 

''^Morning  Exercises,  Vol.  V.     Nicholls'  Edition,     1845. 

f  An  Enquiry  into  Four  Remarkable  Texts  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, which  contain  some  difficulty  in  them,  with  their  probable 
resolution.     1692. 


88       How  the  Scripture  suffers  Violence. 

torment  and  most  unmercifully  force  and  drag  a  text  to  their 
side.  You  may  oljscrve  it,  an  arrant  critic  is  a  resolute  sort  of 
man  generally,  he  is  very  earnest  in  his  work,  though  in  ever  so 
light  a  matter,  and  pusheth  it  on  to  the  utmost  extremity.  I 
could  mention  several  professors  of  criticism  who  are  guilty  of 
this  miscarriage,  who  make  it  their  business  to  force  their  way. 
You  shall  sec  them  set  down  before  a  text,  and  raise  their  bat- 
teries against  it,  and  play  their  cannon  and  mortars  upon  it.  If 
this  will  not  do,  they  come  with  greater  force  and  make  a  fresh 
assault  with  stinger  Detachments  from  poets,  orators,  historians, 
philosoijhers,  etc.,  and  fall  on  w^ith  greater  fury,  thinking  by 
this  means  to  bring  it  to  a  parley,  and  then  a  surrender :  or 
rather,  by  their  furious  attacks  we  may  guess  they  intend  no 
other  thing  than  to  take  us  by  storm.  And  truly  in  this  imagin- 
ary romantic  adventure  they  think  they  have  done  it,  they  per- 
suade themselves  they  have  taken  possession  of  the  fort,  and  so 
the  campaign  is  at  an  end,  and  there  is  a  period  to  their  doughty 
attempts.  But  I  hate  these  violent  courses,  this  besieging  of  a 
chapter  and  verse,  this  investing  of  a  place  of  scripture.  I  abhor 
the  common  practice  of  ravaging  and  preying  upon  the  Bible  :  I 
do  not  like  the  bombarding  of  Scrij^ture,  I  approve  not  of  the 
storming  of  a  text,  and  taking  it  by  force.  It  is  very  unchristian 
and  unbecoming  employment  to  extort  a  sense  from  any  place 
of  Holy  Writ,  and  by  little  critical  arts  and  fetches  to  bring 
over  the  words  to  a  compliance  with  us,  i.e.  to  the  meaning  which 
we  design. 

Our  divisions  should  be  simple,  but  simple  as  they  may 
be,  and  should  be,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  so 
naturally  di\'ide  themselves  that  each  division  is  anticipated 
by  the  hearer  ;  while  w^e  must  cheerfully  admit,  too,  that 
there  are  some  texts  which  fiuiiish  instantly  such  a  series  of 
topics  that  no  insight  of  the  preacher,  or  ingenuity  uj)on 
his  part,  can  at  all  reform.  There  are  two  ideas  of  division 
—one  synthetic,  this  is  comprehensive,  going  up  the  hiU,  it 
is  inductive,  and  conducts  one  to  unity  of  vision  ;  the  other, 
analytic,  apprehensive,  the  going  down  the  hill,  and  it  is 
deductive,  and  takes  a  text  hi  pieces.  Method  in  the  pulpit. 


On  Arrangement  of  Texts  hy  Division.       89 

of  coui'se  inclucliiig*  division,  has  been  said  to  be  all  included 
in  this,  "Keej)  moving  toward  a  given  point."* 

I  told  you  some  time  since,  when  Kowland  Hill  was 
examining  a  yoimg  man  for  the  ministr)^,  he  said,  "  Well, 
the  Gospel  is  a  good  milch  cow,  she  gives  plenty  of  milk  ; 
I  never  write  my  sermons.  I  first  give  a  pull  at  justifica- 
tion, then  a  plug  at  adoption,  and  aftersvards  a  bit  at  sanc- 
tification,  and  so,  in  one  way  or  the  other,  I  fiU  my  pail 
with  the  Gospel  milk."  And  although  this  was  said  with  all 
Rowland  Hill's  accustomed  coai-sness  and  di'oUery,  yet  it  is 
full  of  truth  ;  there  is  no  doubt  that  a  sermon  should  con- 
tain these  three  as  the  gi-eat  elementary  truths.  The  earth 
has  a  vesture  of  flowers  and  trees,  gloriously  gxeen,  and  her 
fields  and  rivers  ;  but  what  kind  of  world  would  it  be 
without  gi'anite  and  hmestone  ?  and  so  you  may  have  in 
your  ministry  multitudinous  tnitlis  and  iUusti'ations,  but 
out  of  every  text  should  rise  those  mountain  peaks  :  I  mix 
my  figures,  but  you  wiU  forgive  me  ;  out  of  every  text  and 
passage  you  should  press  those  three  :  justification,  i.  e.,  the 
righteousness  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ; 
adoption,  the  family  principle  of  God's  church.  His  people  ; 
and  mnctification,  a  renewed  natui'e,  "  walking  iu  the  midst 
of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation  as  lights  in  the 
world" 

The  usages  of  many  ages  and  countries  have  decided 
that  the  text  is  a  wise  hmitation  and  fence,  and  guide.  The 
discourse  in  the  puljoit,  whether  necessarily  so  or  not,  has 
been  the  subject  of  veiy  considerable  discussion.  Vinet 
gives  his  weighty  and  admirable  name  agauist  the  constant 
use  of  the  text,  and  he  saj^s  that  men  of  every  different 
character  and  quite  opposite  doctrines  have  agi'eed  in  opin- 
ion that  the  use  of  texts  is  an  abuse.  Voltaire,  perhaps,  will 
not  command  any  gi'eat  deference,  but  we  may  listen 
to   him   when   he   says  ; — "  It   were   to   be   wished   that 

*Dr.  L.  Wliithin^on,  Art. "  Method  in  Sermons,"  Bie.  Sac,  18G1. 


go  Should  we  taJcc  a  I'ext. 

Bourdiiloue,  in  banishing  from  the  pulpit  the  bad  taste 
which  debased  it,  had  banished  from  it  also  the  custom  of 
preaching  fi*om  a  text.  Indeed,  to  speak  long  upon  a 
quotation  of  a  line  or  two,  to  labor  to  bring  his  whole  dis- 
coiu'se  to  bear  upon  this  line,  such  a  labor  appears  a  trifling 
little  worthy  the  dignity  of  the  ministry.  The  text  becomes 
a  kmd  of  motto,  or  rather  enigma,  which  the  discoui'se 
develoi^s."  So  says  Voltaire  in  his  great  work  on  The  Age 
of  Louis  XIV.  We  can  have  nothing  to  take  exception  to 
in  the  manner  in  which  the  objection  is  ui'ged,  only  that  we 
regard  the  whole  matter  from  altogether  another  standjDoint. 
But  the  standpoint  of  Vinet  may  be  supposed  to  be  also 
identical  with  oiu'  0's\ti,  yet  he  remarks  that  the  use  of  iso- 
lated texts,  joined  to  the  necessity  of  never  preaching  with- 
out a  text,  has  certainly  in  its  rigor  and  in  its  absolute,  some- 
thing false,  something  servile,  which  naiTows  the  mind,  con- 
fines the  thought,  puts  restraint  upon  the  individuahty  of 
the  preacher ;  although  this  distinguished  man  admits, 
"  that  the  liberty  of  preaching  without  a  text  would  possi- 
bly have  still  more  inconveniences,  if  the  abuses  which  have 
resulted  from  it  would  not  be  more  serious." 

This  is  tnie,  but  it  only  meets  a  portion  of  our  posi- 
tion. Should  any  one  demand  of  me  why  I  invariably 
take  a  text,  I  would  say  this  arises  from  the  nature  of  the 
Bible,  the  Book  itself,  and  the  natui'e  of  the  message 
of  which  I  am  the  channel,  the  ambassador  fi'om  God  to 
souls. 

Yes,  I  o^vn  that  I  am  amazed  that  any  man  should  dis- 
pute the  matter  with  us,  for  it  seems  clear  to  me  that  each 
pulpit  service  is  to  partake  of  the  character  of  a  demon- 
stration ;  a  demonstration,  either  of  a  tnUli,  or  demonstra- 
tion to  the  conscience  ;  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit. 
You  go  into  the  lecture  hall  of  the  anatomist,  or  the 
chemist,  or  the  astronomer,  and  xi])on  a  very  small  segment 
of  tnilh  you  listen  a  long  time  to  what  is  a  demonstration 


0)1  Arrangement  of  Texts  by  Division.       g  i 

fi'om  the  chfiii'  of  mental  and  moral  science  ;  or  from  the 
chaii-  of  criticism.  The  minister  is  very  frequently  in  the 
pnlpit  to  demonstrate  the  tiTith  ;  a  passage  is,  perhaps, 
isolated  from  its  contextual  relations,  not  imfau-ly  or 
imrighteously,  but  because  it  is  the  key-stone  of  an 
argument,  but  it  especially  furnishes  the  very  point, 
standing  on  which  the  whole  region  of  the  truth  round 
about  may  be  seen  ;  or  it  may  be  a  text  making  a  dii'ect 
aim  to  the  conscience — a  text  which  the  preacher  may  use 
like  a  flail  ;  while,  fiu-ther,  the  objection  supposes  that  the 
text  must  always  be  a  mere  proverbial  word  of  a  few 
syllables.  It  may  be  a  parable,  it  may  be  the  whole  of  an 
argument,  but,  in  any  case,  we  may  hold  that  for  the  up- 
holding the  authority  of  sacred  Scriptui-e,  and  for  pressing 
home  the  truth,  there  is  no  method  so  advisable,  so  likely  to 
fasten  on  the  mind,  and  to  pierce  the  conscience,  as  the  ju- 
diciously-chosen text.  ''^ Bring  hither  the  ephod"  said  the 
priest  in  olden  times.  There  is  a  story  of  a  young  man  in 
a  Scotch  family,  uttering  a  stiing  of  more  than  doubtful 
opinions,  when  he  was  stopped  by  the  stern  voice  of  the 
father  or  the  grandfather,  ^^ Box  me  yon  Bible"  and  no 
doubt  in  all  matters  of  doctrine  or  of  duty  the  Bible  is  our 
ephod  ;  nor,  I  beheve,  can  any  one  say  "  I  was  distressed 
about  my  path  of  faith  and  obedience,  and  I  sought  the 
Bible  in  vain."  No  !  and  it  is  thus  to  be  maintained  by 
this  daily  use.  Nothing  is  more  striking  in  Popish  Contin- 
ental chui'ches  than  the  jDulpit  without  the  Bible.  The 
Papist  goes  into  our  churches,  and  says  he  sees  the  Bible, 
and  Bibliolatry,  the  "  one  man,"  the  voice  of  the  Chiu'ch 
and  no  di^ine  guide  ;  but  in  the  Papal  building  what  have 
we? 

And  here  let  me  offer  this  remark,  that  for  the  work  of 
the  permanent  pastorate  nothing  ■udll  avail  but  keeping 
youi'  owTi  mind  constantly  at  work  upon  the  stores  of  Bib- 
lical knowledge  and  truth.     You  must  not  have  to  seek 


0  2  A  Method  is  IndlspensaUe. 

your  subjects  week  by  week,  or  you  will  be  often  stranded 
and  never  find  them  ;  while,  if  you  read  the  Scriptm-es 
thoughtfully  day  by  day,  you  will  find  every  day  hght  break 
forth  fi'ora  the  word,  and  fi'om  every  part  of  it.  Only  thus 
can  you  be  fitted  for  the  permanent  pastorate  ;  it  is  not 
siu-ely  so  difficult  ;  Monastic  men  have  preached  every  day, 
and  there  are  men  who  still  can  preach  eveiy  day  without 
a  diminution  of  fi^eshness  ;  but  only  in  the  way  I  suggest 
to  you,  the  placing  yourself  where  every  day  the  truth  of 
God  may  grapple  with  your  own  consciences.  There  is  a 
preaching  which  has  been  called  bmshwood  preaching,  as 
it  is  said  the  genius  of  some  preachers  is  of  the  very  na- 
tui-e  of  bnishwood,  which  blazes  and  burns  out  with  a 
transient  splendor.  There  is  need  for  method  m  the  ar- 
rangement of  your  subjects,  not  less  than  in  the  introduc- 
tion of  them,  and  what  a  world  of  topics  hes  before  you. 
On  you  devolves,  each  in  your  separate  sphere,  the  task  of 
presentmg  the  Christian  cosmos  to  the  view  ;  all  the  whole 
Chi'istian  zodiac  of  truth  ;  all  the  firmament  of  doctrine 
and  emotion.  The  heavens  are  crowded  with  stars,  but 
they  need  the  eye  and  mind  of  the  spiritual  astronomer  to 
gi'oup  and  to  illustrate  their  plan. 

JhU  texts  and  divisions — some  sermons  have  a  veiy  happy 
and  apt  conjunction  between  text,  and  divisions,  and  treat- 
ment 

A  young  man  not  very  many  years  sjnce — the  circum- 
stance is  given  in  the  hfe  of  Dr.  Waugh,*  was  sent  for  to 
preach  before  the  Prince  of  Orange  at  the  Hague.  He  had 
indicated  gi-eat  talent  and  promise,  and  the  Prince  wished 
to  hear  him.  The  yoimg  man's  father  was  also  a  preacher 
at  the  coui't,  and  he  was  commanded  by  the  Prince  to  push 
his  son  at  a  moment's  warning  into  tlie  pulpit,  that  he 
might  give  a  fair  S2:)ecunen  of  his  powers  ;  also  the  text  was 
given  to  him  fi*om  Acts  viii.  20-40.  You  remember  the 
*  Life  of  Dr.  Alexander  WauyJi. 


0)1  Arrangement  of  Texts  by  Division.      g^ 

passage — the  story  of  the  coiu'tier  and  his  meeting  with 
Philip.  The  young  preacher  was  confounded,  but  there 
was  no  time  to  hesitate.  After  a  suitable  introduction  he 
told  his  noble  and  crowded  audience  that  his  subject  con- 
tained four  wonders,  four  marvels,  (quatre  merveilles)  which 
he  should  make  the  four  heads  of  his  sermon,  and  if  he 
should  say  an;yi:hing  to  which  their  ears  had  not  been  ac- 
customed in  that  place,  he  hoped  that  his  unprepared  state 
of  mind  fi'om  his  sudden  call  would  plead  his  apolog}^  and 
'  that  they  would  consider  the  things  he  might  speak  as  ac- 
cording to  our  Lord's  promise,  "  given  to  him  in  that 
houi*." 

Marvel  the  Jirst.  A  courtier  heads.  Here  he  deplored  the 
ead  Deglect  in  the  education  of  great  men  in  modem  times,  and 
the  little  attention  paid  by  them  to  books. 

Marvel  the  second.  A  courtier  reads  the  bible.  Here  he  de- 
plored the  melancholy  condition  of  religious  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings in  the  great,  and  the  impoverished  state  of  a  mind  so  des- 
titute. 

Marvel  the  third.  A  courtier  owns  himself  ignorant  of  hissul- 
ject.  Here  he  exposed  the  conceit  and  presumption  of  petulant 
ignorance  in  high  places. 

Marvel  the  fourth.  A  courtier  applies  to  a  minister  of  Christ 
for  information,  and  follows  his  counsel.  The  Prince  was  famous 
for  sleeping  during  the  service,  but  he  did  not  sleep  during  that 
sermon. 

But  oui'  yoimg  fiiend  was  never  asked  to  preach  in  the 
palace  again.  The  Prince  and  the  preacher  took  their  re- 
venge upon  each  other. 

I  suppose  every  one  will  agi*ee  with  me  that  for  that  sug- 
gestiveness  which  pierces  down  to  the  centre  of  texts  and 
subjects,  sometime,  it  may  be  admitted,  in  a  cpicstionable 
manner,  but  more  usually  with  great  and  most  pei-tinent 
skiU,  we  have  some  of  the  finest  illustrations  m  Matthew 
Hemry.  Turn  for  an  illustration  to  Jeremiah  xxxviii,  where 
we  have  the  account  of  Ebedmelech,  the  Ethiopian,  draw- 


04        lUustraiioufrom  Matthew  Henry. 

ing  Jeremiah  out  of  a  dungeon,  with  cords,  old  cast  clouts 
and  rotten  rags  ;  the  expositor  di-aws  many  lessons  in  the 
way  of  fact  aud  observation. 

I.  Fact.  A  proplict  is  in  a  dungeon.  Whence  observe  it  is 
common  for  wicked  people  to  look  on  God's  faithful  servants  as 
their  enemies. 

II.  Fact.  The  king  could  not  help  him;  whence  observe 
those  will  have  a  great  deal  to  answer  for,  though  they  have  a 
secret  kindness  for  good  people,  yet  dare  not  own  it  in  a  time 
of  need. 

III.  Fact.  Ebcdmelech  was  an  Ethiopian.  Whence  observe 
some  Gentiles  had  more  equily  and  piety  than  some  Jews. 

IV.  Fact.  Ebcdmelech  was  a  courtier.  Whence  observe  God 
has  a  remnant  in  all  places,  among  all  sorts.  There  were  saints 
even  in  Caesar's  household. 

V.  Fact.  The  king  was  sitting  in  the  gate  on  public  busi- 
ness, when  Ebcdmelech  applied  to  him  for  the  release  of  Jere- 
miah. Whence  observe  whither  should  oj^pressed  innocency 
flee  for  protection  but  to  the  throne?  No  time  must  be  lost 
when  life  is  in  danger,  especially  valuable  life.  God  can  raise 
up  friends  for  llis  people  in  distress  where  they  little  thought 
of  them. 

VI.  Fact.  The  king  orders  his  release.  Observe,  the  hearts 
of  kings  arc  in  God's  hands ;  let  this  encourage  us  to  appear 
boldly  before  God  ;  we  may  succeed  better  than  we  thought. 

VII.  Fact.  That  Ebcdaiclech  took  old  clouts  and  rags  from 
under  the  treasury  in  the  king's  house.  Observe,  no  waste 
should  be  made  even  in  kings'  palaces.  Broken  linen,  like 
broken  meat,  should  l)e  preserved  for  the  use  of  the  jDoor. 

VIII.  Fact.  Ebcdmelech  directed  Jeremiah  to  put  the  soft 
rags  under  his  arm-holes.  Observe,  distressed  people  should  be. 
treated  with  tenderness. 

IX.  Fact.  Ebcdmelech  did  not  throw  the  rags  down,  but  let 
them  down  ])y  cords.  Observe,  the  poor  siiould  be  relieved 
wiili  respec'. 

All  this  is  vciy  ingenious  and  not  ver}^  far-fetched  ;  there 
arc  leesous  which  should  be  brought  out  fi'om  the  biogi-aph- 


Oil  Arrangement  of  Texts  hy  Division.      g^ 

ical  and  historical  portions  of  Scripture  constantly,  since 
they  arrest,  and  instnict,  and  abide. 

The  method  of  handling  texts  by  division  has  recently 
fallen  into  disuse,  but  if  many  divisions  have  been  un- 
wise, much  more  unwise  is  the  disuse  ;  of  old  when  the 
text  was  chosen,  the  next  thing  was  to  secure  hapjoy  divis- 
ions, they  were  marked,  and  they  were  rememberable. 
True,  some  divisions  may,  in  their  mere  unmeaning  plat- 
itude-like character,  be  as  good  as  none,  and  very  often 
good  preachers  have  been  able  to  strike  out  such  an  out- 
line as  to  make  it  rememberable  and  happy.  The  divisions 
obtained  by  the  old  men,  the  sennon  was  almost  completed. 
It  became  fixed  and  rememberable  in  the  preacher's  miad, 
and  as  fixed  and  rememberable  in  the  mind  and  memor}'  of 
the  hearer.  I  do  not  say  that  divisions  should  not  be  obvi- 
ous ;  on  the  contrary,  to  be  useful  they  should,  they  must  be 
obvious,  but  not  so  merely  obvious  that  any  hearer  can  anti- 
cipate and  stiike  out  such  a  method  by  merely  glancing  at 
the  text  himself ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  there  has  come  into 
vogue  another  style,  still  more  absui'd,  the  seeking  about 
for  modes  of  division,  straining  after  intellectual  effect, 
and  I  could  present  many  magnificent  receipts  of  this  kind, 
for  diluting  wine  into  water,  and  tliickening  milk  into  mud. 
Fancy  a  man  dividing  a  text  after  this  fashion.  "  God  is 
a  SiDirit,"  etc.,  here  we  have  first,  the  transcendental  prop- 
erties of  the  divine  natui*e.  "  God  is,"  etc.  ;  second,  we 
have  the  anthropomoi'phic  relations  imder  which  those 
transcendental  properties  are  revealed,  spu'it  and  tnith  ; 
third,  we  have  the  sj^mbolism  under  which  those  transcend- 
ental properties  in  the  anthropomorphic  relations  become 
worship.  They  that  worship  "must  tcorship,  etc."  This 
pretty  httle  thing  is  a  fan  illustration  of  the  "  House-that- 
Jack-built"  kind  of  style,  beneath  which  "the  hungiy 
sheep  look  up,  but  are  not  fed."  It  is  most  vain  work  to 
float  out  upon  a  sea  of  generalities  ;  the  text  should  speak, 


96  Thomas  Watson. 

aiid  yet  it  13  possible  without  any  of  such  sinful  folly  to 
jicnnit  a  fair  portion  of  human  ingenuity  to  illustrate,  and 
to  open  without  torturing  it.  The  old  Puritan  preachers, 
dealing  as  they  did  in  interminable  divisions,  wiU  be  found 
valuable  in  this  :  while  theii-  sermons  can  never  be  preach- 
ed, they  do  often  yet  furnish  very  helpful  methods  of  the 
way  in  which  a  text  may  be  made  to  yield  up  divisions, 
which  ai'c  as  mile-stones  to  the  thought,  boundaiy  Hues  of 
definition  ;  or  suggestive  variations  of  idea.  In  Obadiah 
Sedge  wick  s  ShqJierd  of  Israel,  in  the  Sermons  of  Thomas 
Watson,  and  in  the  less  known  but  especially  suggestive 
works  of  John  Smith,  of  Clavering,  in  Essex,  called  the 
Essex  Dove,-*'  will  be  found  especiall}'  illustrations  of  this. 
The  outline  of  Thom.\s  Watson's  Sermon,  Keej)  thj  Heart, 
is  illustrative  of  this  comprehensive  suggestive  characier. 

I.  Keep  thy  heart.  1.  As  thou  wouldst  a  temple ;  2.  Asa 
treasure ;  3.  As  a  garden  ;  4.  As  a  garrison  ;  5.  As  a  prisoner ; 
6.  As  a  watch. 

II.  The  frame  and  posture  in  which  it  should  be  kept.  1. 
Awake ;  2.  Jealous ;  3.  Serious  ;  4    Humble ;  5.  Sublime. 

III.  Keep  the  passages  and  forts  and  outworks  of  the  heart. 
1  The  senses  ;  2.  The  thoughts,  motion,  and  appHcation :  If 
Mc  do  not  keep  our  hearts  the  Devil  will. 

But  I  cannot  quote  at  length  from  these  volumes,  but  I 
may  express  my  behef,  that  which  I  believe  in  all  instances, 
the  modem  sketches  and  skeletons  of  sermons  ai'e  very 
poor  thmgsfor  any  real  and  adequate  help  to  the  preacher  ; 
a  collection  of  the  old  outhncs  with  brief  extracts,  showing 
the  methods  of  fiUing  out  and  illuminating  a  division  would 
be  invaluable  and  useful.     I  remember  to  have  heard  of  an 

*  Sco  liis  Exposition  of  the  Creed,  1G32,  most  fertile  in  simple, 
happy  similes,  and  happy  textual  divisions,  and  his  Exposition  of  the 
Lords  Prayer,  and  Nature  of  Repentance,  in  tlie  Essex  Dove,  I  pre- 
sume posthunioii.s ;  these  works  are  very  easy  and  simple,  but  very 
nsffiil. 


On  ArrcDigoaent  of  Texts  hy  Division.      97 

Antinoiiiiau  preacher  who,  taking  for  his  text,  "  Walk  in 
love,"  accented  the  adverb  in,  "Walk  i;i  love."  "This," 
said  he,  "  is  not  to  be  taken  as  Aiininians  take  it,  as  a  call 
to  works  and  to  a  disposition  of  mind,  but  a  gracious  invi- 
tation to  the  Church  to  enter."  "Walk  in  Love."  Thom- 
as Adams  treated  it  different^.  "  Walk  in  Love  as  Christ 
loved  us."  The  text  of  course  furnished  him  with  several 
sermons  I  need  not  cite,  but  Adams  is  rich  and  suggestive 
in  divisions,  sometimes  fanciful,  but  always  self-evident  but 
striking  tiiiths  were  gaiaed. 

In  the  sermons  of  Daniel  Featly,*  are  several  of  these 
more  happy  and  comprehensive  methods  of  textual  divis- 
ions ;  I  will  select  a  few.  Thus,  on  the  text  in  Eev.  ii.  7, 
on  the  Hidden  Manna — "  to  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give 
to  eat  of  the  hidden  manna,  and  I  will  give  him  a  white 
stone,  and  in  the  stone  a  new  name  written,  which  no  man 
knoweth  saving  he  that  receiveth  it." 

1.  No  man  knoweth  the  new  name,  save  lie  that  receiveth  it ; 
2.  No  man  receiveth  it,  but  he  that  hath  the  white  stone ;  3. 
No  man  hath  the  white  stone,  but  he  that  eateth  the  manna ; 
4.  No  man  eateth  the  hidden  manna,  but  he  to  whom  it  is  giv- 
en ;  5.  It  is  given  to  none  to  eat  thereof,  but  to  him  that  over- 
cometh. 

Li  a  second  sennon  on  the  same  text  the  following  di- 
visions occui' : —  tf 

The  new  name.  AVe  receive  many  things  from  our  Saviour ; 
1.  A  new  testament  signed  with  His  blood ;  2.  In  this  new  tes- 
tament a  neio  covenant ;  3,  In  this  7iew  covenant  a  new  command- 
ment;  4.  To  obey  this  new  commandment  a  new  heart ;  5.  And 
answerable  to  this  new  heart  new  tongues  ;  G.  xind  consonant  to 
these  new  tongues,  new  songs. 

Again,  on  the  text  in  2  Cor.  \'i.  IG,  "  For  ye  are  the  Tem- 
ple of  the  hving  God,"  we  find  the  foUo^ving : 

*  Clavis  Mystica  ;  a  Key  opening  divers  Difficult  and  Mystcrloua 
Texts.    1636. 

SECON-D   SERIES.  5 


o 8         Daniel  Feathj. —  Charles  Sp ui rjeon. 

1.  There  arc  many  who  deserve  to  be  called  cages  of  unclean 
birds,  or  rather  slies  of  unclean  beasts  than  temples,  ys  arc  the 
temples,  etc.;  2.  There  are  temples  of  idols,  or  rather  devils,  not 
of  God,  ye  are  the  temjylesof  God;  3.  There  are  gods  not  li^^ng, 
ye  are  the  temples  of  the  living  God. 

In  the  sermon  on  the  words,  "Blessed  are  the  poor  in 
spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  Matt.  v.  3,  we 
have  the  following  singularly  characteristic  divisions :  "I. 
Be  ;  n.  Spe.  I.  Be,  in  the  present  possession  of  the  king- 
dom of  grace.  2.  Spe,  in  the  ceiiain  expectation  of  the  king- 
dom of  glory." 

Again,  m  the  sermon  on  Tlie  Faithful  iShepherd,  horn  the 
text  "  Feed  the  flock  of  God  which  is  among  you,  taking 
the  oversight  thci'eof,  not  by  constraint,  but  willingly  ;  not 
for  filthy  lucre,  but  of  a  ready  mind  ;  neither  as  being 
lords  over  God's  heritage,  but  being  ensamp>les  to  the  flock. 
And  when  the  chief  shej^herd  shall  appear,  ye  shall  receive 
a  crown  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away."  1  Peter,  v.  2,  3, 
4 — occurs  the  following : — 

Thus  I  have  numbered  unto  you  the  several  links  of  the 
apostle's  golden  chain  of  instructions  for  pastors ;  now  let  us 
gather  them  together  in  a  narrow  room: — 1.  Be  not  such  as 
need  to  be  fed,  but  are  able  and  willing  to  feed ;  2.  Feed  not 
yourselves,  but  the  flock ;  3.  Feed  not  the  flock  or  droves  of 
Antichrist,  but  the  flock  of  God  ;  4.  Feed  the  flock  of  God,  not 
out^f  your  charge,  or  without  you,  but  the  flock  of  God  which 
is  among  you ;  5.  Content  not  yourself  with  feeding  them  only 
with  the  Ijrcad  and  sacrament,  but  overlook  thcra  also,  have  an 
eye  to  their  manners :  6,  Do  this  not  constrainedly,  but  will- 
llingly  ;  7.  Not  out  of  private  respects,  but  freely ;  8.  Not  proudly 
but  humbly ;  not  to  show  your  authority  over  the  flock,  but  to 
set  them  an  example  in  yourselves  of  humility,  meekness, 
temperance,  patience,  and  all  other  virtues. 

Coming  fi'om  these  old  illustrations  to  modem  times,  I 
take  one  strong  element  of  IMr.  Spurg eon's  success  to  have 
been  his  adhesion  to  the  old  method  of  breaking  his  sub- 


Oil  Arrangement  of  Texts  hy  Division.      nn 

jcct  lip  into  parts,  what  are  called   heads  and  divisions  ; 
and  that,  while  this  is  invariable  with  him,  there  are  not 
too  many  of  them.     They  always  assist  the  memory  with- 
out distracting-  it.     I  should  think  most  of   his  sennons, 
when  heard,  could  be  pretty  well  remembered  and  recited 
again.     For  a  sermon,  to  be  a  sermon,  must  be  neither 
like  a  leader  in  a  newspaper  nor  an  essay  ;  it  must  have 
its  succession  of  pegs  and  points.     The  figiu'e  is  true,  and 
yet  it  scarcely  represents  the  thing.     A  sermon  should  be 
aiTanged  hke  a  house,  into  different  compartments  and 
rooms.     There  may  be  the  hall  or  vestibule  for  introduc- 
tion, duiing-room  and  parlor,   the  chamber  in  which  the 
heart  finds   rest ;  and  then  in  closing  a  step  out  into  the 
garden,  and  a  farewell  in  iDleasure.     I  am  persuaded  that 
the  modern   method,  which   has  refused  to  concede  any- 
thing to  the  hearers  in  aptitude  or  ignorance,  which  has 
•  treated  texts,  for  the  most  i-)aii;,  as  mere  themes,  has  usually 
ended — it   must  always  end,  if  the  congregation  be  very- 
large — in  turning  the  memory  into  a  jungle,  or  oUa  ixxJrida, 
or  lumber  room,  a  something  where  notliing  is  arranged, 
and  where  the  hearer  usually  finds  himself  too   lazy  and 
inert  to  attempt  the  task.    Of  coui'se  the  power  to  marshal 
all  the  matters  suggested  by  a  text  into  order  and  archi- 
tecture, and  to  give  to  that  order   newness  and   impres- 
siveness,  must  depend  on  the  freshness  in  the  preacher's 
Q-wn  mind.     A  sermon  with  the  most  admirable  and  sym- 
metrical skeleton  of  arrangement,  may  be  a  diy  and  ]:)ony 
business   after  all.     But  let  us  look  at  some  of  Mr.  Spui'- 
geon's  texts,  and  his  mode  of  treatmg  them. 

"  In  that  day  there  shall  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses 
holiness  unto  the  Lord."  The  title  of  this  sermon  is  A 
Peal  of  Bells.     Three  heads  : — 

I.  Let  us  hear  the  horses'  bells. 
II.  Let  us  commend  their  music. 
III.   Let  us  go  home  and  tune  our  bells. 


lOO 


Cliarles  Spur(]eo)i — Toller. 


1.  The  bells  of  the  horses  speak  of  power,  holiness,  pleasure, 
jourueyin^',  merchandise,  toil;  such  arc  the  uses  of  horses. 
These  arc  the  things  of  which   their  bells  speak. 

2.  Their  music  is  commended  for  loudness,  clearness,  con- 
stancy, universality,  divinely  long. 

Then  comes  tlie  application : — 

3.  Go  home  and  tune  your  bells.  There  is  the  Chamber-Bell ; 
—the  Kitchen-Bell ;— the  Shop-Bell ;— The  Yisiting-Bell. 

All  plain  and  broken  witli  pitliy  and  sweet  remarking 
whicli  must  have  made  the  sermon  very  pleasant  and  good, 
-we  should  think,  to  the  hsteners. 

Another  striking  sermon.  The  Cedars  of  Lebanon.  The 
text,  "  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap,  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon,  which  he  hath  i^lanted.."     We  have  : 

I.  The  absence  of  all  human  culture.  1.  The  Lord's  trees 
owe  their  planting  entirely  to  Ilim;  2.  They  arc  not  dependent 
upon  man  for  their  watering;  3.  No  mortal  might  protects, 
them  ;  4.  They  preserve  a  sublime  indifference  to  human  gaze ; 
5.  Their  exaltations  is  all  for  God,  not  for  man  ;  6.  The  cedars 
of  Lebanon  are  independent  of  man  in  their  expectations. 

n.  The  cedars  of  Lebanon  are  a  glorious  display  of  divine 
cure  1.  In  the  abundance  of  their  supply  ;  2,  They  are  always 
green ;  3.  Observe  the  grandeur  and  size  of  these  trees,  and 
note  next  their  fragrance ;  4.  Attentively  think  upon  the  per- 
petuity of  these  cedars ;  5.  Notice  these  cedars  are  very  ven- 
erable. 

in.  The  fullness  of  the  living  principle.  1.  Full  of  sap — 
this  is  vitally  necessary ;  2.  Essentially  mysterious  :  3.  Radically 
secret;  4.  Permanently  active;  5.  Externally  operative;  6. 
Al)undantly  to  be  desired. 

The  genius  of  Thomas  Toixek,  of  Kettermg,  was  shown 
in  this  happy  dealing  with  texts  in  a  wise  and  simple  ac- 
commodation to  circumstances.  Thus  upon  an  occasion 
of  a  great  annual  festivity,  w^hich  for  several  days  created 
a  season  of  relaxation  and  festivity,  he  fell  into  the  usual 
custom  of  delivcnng  a  discourse  of  an  admonitory  charac- 


Oil  Arrangement  of  lexts  by  Division.     loi 

tcr,  guarding  the  j^oung  against  the  dangers,  but  showing 
how  the  season  might  be  made  honorable  to  the  Author 
of  all  blessings.  He  took  for  liis  text,  "What  think  ye, 
that  He  will  not  come  to  the  feast  ?  "  The  following  were 
his  divisions : — 

I.  lie  may  he  here.  There  is  nothing  in  such  a  feast  incon- 
sistent with  Christ's  practice. 

II.  Suppose  he  should  he  here,  how  different  is  this  feast  from 
all  former  feasts,  1.  If  Christ  should  come,  no  good  man  need 
be  ashamed  to  be  seen  here.  2.  If  Christ  should  come,  what  a 
damp  it  will  be  to  many  people's  pleasure.  3.  If  Christ  should 
come,  would  not  some  be  ashamed  to  behave  as  there  is  too 
much  reason  to  believe  they  will.  4.  If  Christ  should  come  a 
welcome  guesf,  how  gratefully  and  happily  will  everybody  go 
away. 

III.  Supjwsc  Jesus  Christ  should  not  come  to  the  feast^  then  it 
will  not  be  worth  coming  to.  1.  If  He  is  not  there,  then  you 
know  who  will  be — the  devil  will.  3.  If  He  is  not  there,  no 
good  man  has  any  business  there.  3.  If  He  is  not  there,  it  will 
be  because  He  is  not  invited.  4.  If  He  is  not  here,  then  you 
had  better  all  have  remained  at  home. 

IV.  He  will,  He  will  le  here. 

But  I  am  too  much  forgetting,  in  my  desh-e  that  the 
people  should  be  interested  and  that  you  should  be 
especially  textual  in  youi'  divisions  and  arrangement,  that 
there  may  be  many  orders  of  division  ;  so  that  first  of  all 
it  is  necessary  to  clear  the  subject  in  your  own  mind,  and 
to  detei-mine  on  what  you  are  going  to  treat,  and  how. 
There  must  be  sometimes,  and  often,  topical  preaching  in 
the  unfolding  of  a  subject,  in  which  j'ou  will  have  to  in- 
struct your  hearers  by  defining  it ;  by  fixing  the  lunitations 
of  it ;  by  illustrating  it ;  and  this  is  perhaps  the  order  of 
discourse  which  mostly  suggests  the  concealed  method. 
Now  I  would  say,  set  forth  an  order  and  succession  of 
thoughts  which  your  hearers  may  carry  in  their  memory. 
This  textual  preaching  is  closely  related  to  exposition,  and 


102 


Etymological  Help. 


for  this  mode  of  ministration  I  must  confess  my  especial 
fondness.  It  is  comprehensive — it  is  exhaustive — and  the 
preacher  may  avail  hunself  of  everiy-thing  in  it.  It  should 
not  exclude  the  sermon,  but  it  may  be  made  most  useful  to 
include  the  sermon.  James  Stratton  had  great  power  and 
happiness  in  expounding,  and  some  of  the  pubhshed 
pieces  of  Dr.  Candhsh  are  admirable  as  guides  to  this 
method,  especially  his  Life  in  a  Risen  Saviour.  It  is  a  style 
pre-eminently  useful,  as  it  is  the  most  difficult  to  use  with 
ease.  In  becoming  an  exi:)ositor  you  are  indeed  the  true 
minister  and  teacher.  The  exjoositor  is  the  man  who  fixes 
the  posts,  who  estabHshes  the  meaning,  and  puts  it  tJwre. 
Then,  for  this  xouii:)ose,  you  may  avail  yoiu'self  of  all  helps, 
etj-mological,  or  other.  Far  would  I  be  from  the  recom- 
mendation of  a  pedantic  use  of  Greek  or  Hebrew  words  ; 
but  apart  from  the  pleasure  of  reading  the  languages  for 
yourself — here  is  one  value  hi  any  knowledge  you  pos- 
sess of  either — the  glance  at  the  word  wUl  be  a  hght 
to  the  text.  I  saw  much  of  this  by  the  fireside  of  my  be- 
loved fiiend,  Benjamin  Parsons  ;  and  of  all  men  I  have 
ever  knowTi  he  possessed  most  power  at  legitimately  open- 
ing a  text 

We  must  utterly  despair  of  being  able  to  jiresent  any  graphic 
picture  of  the  fireside  wliere  with  him,  we  have  so  frequently 
worshipped.  But  let  the  reader  try  to  conceive  the  pleasant 
Domestic  Scene.  The  husband  and  father  at  perfect  ease  in  his 
arm  chair;  the  wife,  the  children,  the  servants,  and  any  oc- 
casional visitors,  each  with  a  Bible,  sitting  in  a  large  and  happy 
circle — every  one  reading  a  verse.  Thin  morning  we  are  read- 
ing in  Timothy,  the  second  epistle,  the  first  chapter.  We  have 
read  to  the  sixth  verse,  when  his  voice  interrupts  the  reading — 
"  What  is  Timothy  reminded  by  Paul  that  he  is  to  do,  Ben  ? 
— the  youngest  boy.  "To  stir  up  the  gift  that  is  in  him." 
"  What  Greek  word  have  we,  Melly,  for  that  '  stir  up '  ? " 
"  AvosUTipf  n-."  "  There  are  three  words  there,  Richard  ;  what 
are  they?"     "'Viu.  signifying  'up';  Cw?/,  signifying  'life';  and 


0)1  Arrangement  of  Texts  hy  Division.    103 

TTi'p,  signifying  '  fire.' "  "  So  that  you  see  tlicy  mean  literally, '  Give 
life  to  the  fire,'  or  '  Stir  up  the  fire.'  What  a  forcible  word  !  We 
have  no  single  word  in  our  language  that  can  express  it."  Even 
while  we  were  reading  the  fire  was  becoming  dull.  It  was  too  good 
and  ajDt  an  illustration  to  be  allowed  to  slip  ;  and  he  pointed  to 
it :  "  See,"  he  said,  "  this  fire  needs  the  poker  ;  if  we  did  not  take 
the  poker  and  stir,  it  would  go  quickly  out.  Although  there  are 
all  the  materials  for  a  good  fire  there,  I  must  stir  the  fire  to  make 
it  burn  brightly,  and  I  must  take  care  how  I  stir  it.  Mental 
materials  are  not  only  necessary,  but  activity  to  give  them  life  and 
ventilation,  Y/e  all  have  gifts  and  fires  within  us  ;  but  they  all 
need  stirring,  or  they  will  never  burn.  Little  heathen  boys  have 
minds  ;  little  beggar  boys  have  minds  ;  they  have  no  friends  to 
help  them  to  stir  them,  and  cannot  themselves  do  it.  Anna, 
what  gift  does  God  bestow  on  his  people  ?  "  "  The  gift  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."  "  Yes  ;  God  giveth  his  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that 
ask  Him,  and  seek  it.  There  is  a  text  which  says,  '  The  spirit 
of  the  prophets  is  subject  to  the  proi3hets.'  God's  gift  does 
not  move  and  propel  us  as  that  steam  carriage  is  moved  by  the 
fire  and  steam,  without  its  knowing  anything  about  it.  We  can 
resist  God's  gift.  We  can  quench  God's  gift.  If  Christians  are 
cold  it  is  because  they  do  not  stir  up  the  fire  in  them.  If  preach- 
ers are  cold  it  is  because  they  do  not  stir  up  the  fire  in  them. 
God  answers  by  fire  to  His  people ;  and  if  we  cannot  impart  fire 
to  others,  it  is  a  proof  that  we  have  not  stirred  up  our  own  fire. 
Don't  forget  you«<ftl  have  a  fire  within  you,  but  it  will  only  burn 
as  you  stir  it."  * 

I  have  a  great  affection  for  etymological  elucidation. 
Even  many  Enghsh  words  escape  us  because  the  meaning 
and  sense  of  the  old  word  is  lost.  Et^TQology  is  the  gi-eat 
nut-cracker  of  textual  meanings,  and  it  often  gives  the  true 
value  of  what  is  within.  In  exjDOsition  you  can  avail  yoiu'- 
self  of  anecdote,  historical  allusion — every  kind  of  illus- 
trative allusion.   More  important  stiU,  I  believe,  few  people 

*  The  Earnest  Minister :  A  Record  of  the  Life,  and  Selections 
from  Posthumous  and  other  writings,  of  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Par- 
sons, Edited  bv  Edwin  Paxton  Hood. 


1 04  The  ]  \due  of  JlJxposltlo7i. 

read  the  Scriptm-es  as  a  contiaued  argument  or  history ; 
yet  all  the  epistles  are  a  continued  argument — Eomans  or 
Hebrews,  Ephesians  or  Colossians.  The  divine  intention — 
the  magnificence  of  the  many  chapters — is  seen  when  its 
proportions  are  more  clearly  seen,  and  you  will  best  be  able 
then  to  open  the  matter,  and  make  it  impressive  when  you 
see  the  scope  of  the  whole,  and  so  make  it  most  efiective 
over  your  audience.  It  is  wonderful  how,  without  doing 
any  injustice  to  the  whole,  what  myriads  of  texts  are  a 
kind  of  microcosm-hke  dew-drops — j^erfect,  pendent  worlds, 
containing  the  whole  globe  and  cosmos  of  truth,  of  faith 
and  life.  Myiiads  of  what  Luther  called  httle  Bibles,  the 
whole  Bible  is  in  many  a  single  text ;  and  there  are  innu- 
merable chapters  hke  a  geometrical  staircase,  self  poised 
and  self  contained.  The  whole  Bible  and  revelation,  with 
all  its  processes,  and  all  its  results,  is  in  them.  I  would 
recommend  you  often,  after  the  period  of  your  settlement, 
to  prejiare  an  expositorial  sermon.  Those  heai-ers  you 
would  most  desire  to  retain  wiU  be  among  those  most 
thankful  and  most  edified.  » 


III. 


Concerning  Written  and  Extempo- 
rary Sermons. 

AM  to  make  a  few  remarks  upon  the  relative 
merits  of  the  two  methods  of  i^reaching.  We  live 
in  the  age  of  written  sei-mons,  but  it  is  satisfac- 

toiy  to  me  to  know  that  I  am  acldi-essing  students 

who  beheve  in,  and  practice  the  art  of  extemporaneous 
discoui'se,  these  two  methods  are  put  upon  their  trial,  and 
I  conceive  that  we  shall  only  improve  the  effectiveness  of 
our  own  mmistration  as  we  analyse  the  relative  merits  of 
the  two.  Usually  the  debate  'between  the  two  methods 
has  been  conducted  with  a  good  deal  of  mere  passibihty. 
Some  have  declared  that  all  sermons  not  written  must  be 
rapid  and  ignorant ;  and  others  that  all  not  extemporane- 
ous  must  be  cold  and  unimpressive  ;  yet  really  something 
very  considerable  may  be  said  on  both  sides  modifymg 
each  theory.  Many  of  the  greatest  pulpit  masters  we 
know,  such  as  South,  Taylor,  and  Barrow,  ^vi'ote  and  read 
their  sei-mons,  the  same  is  also  true  of  Dr.  Chahners  and 
Pr.  Harris  ;  on  tlie  other  hand  the  elder  fathers  of  the 
5*  ''loO 


1 06  The  Two  Methods, 

pulpit,  and  the  great  preachers  of  the  middle  ages,  and 
many  of  oiu'  most  distinguished  moderns,  Robert  Hall, 
and  Edward  Ii'ving,  and  Dr.  M'All,  and  Winter  Hamilton, 
and  James  Parsons,  have  dehvered  extemporaneously  or 
fi'om  memory  their  discourses. 

The  Wykehamist  says  well,  in  his  Papers  on  Preachingy 
referiing  to  the  dispute  between  written  and  extemporane- 
ous discoui'ses  : — 

Nor,  as  we  humbly  conceive,  neither  yes  nor  no  will  stand  the 
test  of  "  semper,  ubique,  ab  omnibus."  Sometimes  each  \;\\\  he 
true,  according  as  a  man  is  in  nerve  or  not ;  or  with  some  ijreach- 
ers,  according  as  a  man  lias  sufficient  clearness  to  keep  liis  sub- 
ject from  confusion ;  or  with  some  suhjeds,  as  whether  a  man  is 
preaching  on  doctrine  or  a  hortatory  appeal;  whether  he  is 
jprcaching  upon  a  text  which  admits  of  little  scope,  or  on  a  par- 
able or  history  where,  if  his  memory  should  not  be  retentive, 
there  will  still  be  plenty  of  matter  to  suggest  topics  ;  or  to  some 
congregations,  to  a  university  audience,  or  in  a  village  church. 
Perhaps,  also,  there  may  be  a  style  of  sermon  between  the  two, 
which  unites  some  of  the  excellencies  of  each ;  as,  for  instance, 
an  ex  tempore  sermon  having  been  written  first,  inasmuch  as 
"  writing  malces  an  exact  man,^^  and  then  delivered  from  notes  ; 
in  conversation  at  the  family  prayer,  or  the  sick  bedside,  or  the 
cottage  and  schoolroom  lecture,  inasmuch  as  ^''conversation  malces 
a  ready  mart '' — always  the  subject  having  been  previously  stud- 
ied and  read  up  for,  inasmuch  as  ^^  reading  maJces  a  full  many  * 

And  I  think  we  must  di-aw  a  gi'eat  distinction  between 
the  ordinai-y  sennon  and  that  performance  which  may  be 
called  an  oration  ;  a  sort  of  thing  upon  which  I  really  do 
not  feel  that  I  have  any  advice  to  offer  ;  utterly  incaioable 
of  it  myself,  I  am  imable  to  give  receipts  for  the  preparation 
of  it ;  it  is  produced  by  a  kind  of  sweating  process — to 
speak  respectfully  of  it — it  is  a  sort  of  spoken  poem  into 
which  the  man  puts  all  and  every  power  he  possesses  for, 
perhaps,  a  period  of   six  months  during  its  preparation, 

*  Papers  on  Prcachhi-j  and  PuhHc  Speaking.    By  a  Wykehamist. 


Written  and  Extemj)orary  Sermons.       1 07 

The  mistake  many  people  make,  is  in  the  supposition  that 
it  is  to  be  produced  once  or  twice,  or  thi'ee  or  four  times 
in  the  coiu*se  of  a  week.  Of  this  performance,  we  may  say 
at  once,  it  is  more  hkely  impossible  that  it  could  be  the  ef- 
fective thing  it  is  if  read.  AVhat  would  be  the  effect  if  Mr. 
Morley  Punshon  read  his  lectures  instead  of  declaimmi, 
them  ?  all  tilings  then  being  equal,  I  have  no  hesitation 
at  once  in  saymg  that,  of  course,  the  discoui'se  dehvered — 
not  read — must  be  the  more  teUing,  the  more  effective  and 
powerful  for  the  pui-jDoses  of  fashion,  movement,  and  ac- 
tion ;  there  are  things  which  cannot  be  done  while  the  eye 
is  slavislily  fixed  upon  paper,  and  the  whole  body  and  be- 
ing is  restricted  and  restrained  by  tbe  consideration  of  what 
comes  next. 

Nothing  in  the  history  of  the  pulpit  siu'prises  me  more 
than  the  labor  attaching  to  the  composition  and  the  deliv- 
ery of  sermons,  especially  in  the  Church  of  England.  There 
is  a  book  full  of  anecdotes  of  the  pulpit  of  the  Church  of 
England.  It  is  not  too  much  to  call  it  a  shameful  book  ;  it 
has  only  been  pubhshed  a  year  or  two,  in  it  the  whole  af- 
fairs of  preaching  are  treated  as  a  joke,  or  an  affliction  ;  it 
is  called  A  Voice  from  a  JJask.  It  is  WTitten  by  a  clergjTuan, 
and  it  sets  forth  the  poverty  of  the  Chui'ch  of  England 
pulpit  in  a  most  amusing  light.  The  writer  says,  "  It  is 
no  wonder,  consideiing  how  much  labor  the  composition  of 
a  sermon  costs  most  of  us,  that  we  are  chaiy  of  them. 
Some  of  my  fiiends  entertain  an  affection  quite  parental 
for  these  offsprings  of  their  brain.  A  parson  of  this  char- 
acter, who  kejDt  his  pulpit  manuscripts  in  a  box  in  his 
hbrary,  was  roused  from  his  slumber  early  one  morning  by 
his  servant  who  informed  him  that  his  house  had  been  brok- 
en into  and  the  lower  rooms  ransacked.  '  John !'  cried  the 
startled  divine,  jumping  up  m  the  bed,  *  Have  they,  have 
they  stolen  my  sermon-box  ? '  '  No,  'tis  only  broken  open.* 
'  Then  bring  up  my  shaving  water  at  the  usual  time.'  " 


1 08  Beware  of  the  Sermon  Case. 

We  laugli  at  these  things,  but  they  are  venj  shock in/j  to 
my  mind.  A  man  professing  to  he  a  minister  of  God  and  of 
His  truth,  and  Imvinrj  nothing  to  say  !  no  doubt  vanity  often 
rushes  out  into  speech  when  it  had  better  hold  its  tongue, 
but  even  this  is  better  than  the  sermon  case,  the  Uack  hook, 
wliich  it  has  been  said  truly  puts  up  a  barrier  between  the 
preacher  and  the  mind,  and  heart,  and  affections  of  his  au- 
dience ;  and  with  this  goes  another  thing,  that  they  are  usual- 
ly supposed  to  be  dishonest  A  man  who  gives  forth  evident- 
ly with  no  feeling  at  all  words  fi'om  a  paper  for  twenty  min- 
utes or  half  an  houi",  w^hy,  I  think  the  multitude  may  be 
pardoned  for  thinking  that  very  likely  they  are  not  his  own, 
and  indeed,  many  are  the  sermons  over  which  that  prophet- 
ic exclamation  maybe  raised,  "Alas,  master  for  it  was  bor- 
rowed." This  I  know  you  will  scorn  to  do  except  in  the 
righteous  way  in  which  I  have  in  past  lectures  prescribed. 

I  believe  we  shall  simpKfy  matters  ver}^  much,  however, 
if  we  first  of  all  lay  down  this  especial  canon — that  excel- 
lence is  not  to  be  exj)ected  in  either  department  of  pubhc 
speech  and  seiwice,  except  as  there  is  lahor  and  indiistru* 

The  history  of  the  world  is  fall  of  testimony  to  i^rove  how 
much  depends  upon  industry ;  not  an  eminent  orator  has  lived, 
but  he  is  an  example  of  it.  Yet,  in  contradiction  to  all  this,  the 
almost  universal  feeling  appears  to  be,  that  industry  can  effect 
nothing,  that  eminence  is  the  result  of  accident,  and  that  every 
one  must  be  content  to  remain  just  what  he  may  happen  to  be. 
Thus,  multitudes  who  come  forward  as  teachers  and  guides,  suf- 
fer themselves  to  be  satisfied  with  the  most  indifferent  attain- 
ments and  a  miserable  mediocrity,  without  so  much  as  inquiring 
how  they  might  rise  higher,  much  less  making  any  attempt  to 
rise.  For  any  other  art  they  would  have  served  an  apprentice- 
ship, and  would  be  ashamed  to  practise  it  in  public  before  they 
had  learned  it.  If  any  r)ne  would  sing,  he  attends  a  master,  and 
is  drilled  in  the  very  elementary  principles ;  and  only  after  the 

*  Sacred  Ithetoric  :  or,  Composition  and  Delivery  of  Sermons.  By 
Henry  J.  Riph^y,  To  which  are  added  Hints  on  Extemporaneous 
Preaching,  by  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  D.D. 


Written  and  Extem'porav]]  Sermons.       \  oo 

most  laborious  process  dares  to  exercise  his  voice  in  public. 
This  he  does,  though  he  has  scarce  anything  to  learn  but  the 
mechanical  execution  of  what  lies  in  sensible  forms  before  his 
eye.  But  the  extemporaneous  speaker,  v;\io  is  to  invent  as  well 
as  to  utter,  to  carry  on  an  operation  of  Vim  mind  as  well  as  to 
produce  sound,  enters  upon  the  work  without  preparatory  dis- 
cipline, and  then  wonders  that  he  fails  !  If  he  were  learning  to 
play  on  the  flute  for  public  exhibition,  what  hours  and  days 
would  he  spend  in  giving  facility  to  his  fingers,  and  attaining 
the  power  of  the  sweetest  and  most  impressive  execution.  If 
he  were  devoting  himself  to  the  organ,  what  months  and  years 
would  he  labor,  that  he  might  know  its  compass,  and  be  able 
to  draw  out,  at  will,  all  its  various  combinations  of  harmonious 
sound,  and  its  full  richness  and  delicacy  of  expression.  And 
yet  he  will  foncy  that  the  grandest,  the  most  various,  the  most 
expressive  of  all  instruments,  which  the  infinite  Creator  has 
fashioned  by  the  union  of  an  intellectual  soul  with  the  powers 
,of  speech,  may  be  played  upon  without  study  or  practice ;  he 
comes  to  it,  a  mere  uuinstructed  tyro,  and  thinks  to  manage  all 
its  stops,  and  command  the  whole  compass  of  its  varied  and 
comprehensive  power  !  He  finds  himself  a  bungler  in  the  at- 
tempt, is  mortified  at  his  failure,  and  settles  in  his  mind  forever 
that  the  attempt  is  vain. 

Labor  which  does  not  terminate  with  the  arrangement  of 
the  subject,  and  the  gi'ouping  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  ma- 
terials, and  the  unages  in  then'  various  compartments,  but 
which  also,  and  fiu'ther,  resolves  the  w^hole  into  the  mind, 
the  heart,  and  the  memory.  The  man  writes  his  sermon — 
his  pen  travels  over  his  paper  as  if  he  were  wntmg  a  letter 
to  a  fiiend.  The  length  of  his  sentences,  the  piercingness, 
and  the  aptness  of  his  words  have  not  been  thought  upon  ; 
being  written  too,  there  is  no  danger  of  failui'e  ;  the  tiling 
is  before  his  eye — ^he  cannot  lose  the  chain  of  his  coimec- 
tion  ;  there  can  be  no  breakdown.  So  he  goes  hito  the 
pulpit — is  it  wonderful  that  it  docs  not  tell — that  it  seems 
to  be  a  thing  distant  fi'om  himself?  It  is  not  wonderful  if 
written,  and  to  bo  read.     Should  it  not  have  been  made 


1 1  o       "  The  Fear  tliat  hrings  a  Snare!''' 

completely  bis  own  by  pondering  and  meditation,  and  by 
fixing  its  distinct  place  in  the  memory. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  preacher  determines  to  deliver 
his  discourse  extemporaneously,  is  this  to  exempt  him  from 
preparation,  from  arrangement,  fi'om  the  selection  of  those 
words  which  will  most  happily  and  comi^rehensively  convey 
his  meaning.  In  this  case  also  is  there  not  to  be  labor — 
labor,  the  text  burns  in  your  soul,  does  it  ?  it  is  hke  a  fii'e 
in  the  bones,  is  it  ?  the  question  I  know  is  proposed  often, 
how  fixr  is  extempore  address  within  the  reach  of  the  ma- 
jority of  xoreachers,  and  it  is  quite  true  that  it  requn-es  more 
study  to  do  justice  to  unwi'itten  than  to  written  sermons. 
One  of  the  most  joerilous  gifts  is  the  gift  of  fluency,  the 
power  of  easy  speech  ;  speech  to  which  we  hsten,  but  which 
produces  little  impression  ;  which  w^ill  increase  gi'eatly  with 
all  men  ;  fluency,  the  power  of  s^Deech,  weakening  the  ne- 
cessity felt  for  conversation  and  thought. 

Whence  springs  this  feehng  of  the  necessity  of  a  slavish 
committal  to  paj)er.  Partly  no  doubt  it  arises  from  the 
variety  of  topics  to  which  a  preacher  must  attend  ;  an 
average  man  with  no  more  ability  than  any  of  the  people 
about  liim,  has  got  to  dehver  himself  upon  many  subjects 
in  the  course  of  the  week.  How  can  this  be  without  run- 
ning into  a  wasteful  sameness.  But  there  is  a  deeper  reason 
than  this,  self- consciousness  is  the  cui'se  of  the  pulpit,  and 
it  paralyses  all  genuine  effort ;  this  is,  you  perceive,  another 
name  for  vanity,  and  is  it  not  greatly  to  be  feared  that  the 
sense  of  personal  vanity  sadly  over-rates  the  effoi-t  in  the 
pulpit.  I  am  afi'aid  ministers,  as  a  rule,  are  vainer  than 
other  men  ;  fastidiousness,  I  know,  is  not  a  proof  of  this, 
but  it  often  illustrates  it  ;  they  are  vainer  than  artists,  trades- 
men, professional  men  ;  even  than  musicians  and  poets.  A 
finickal  fear  of  not  hitting  the  exact  shades  of  expression — 
a  tremulous  shivering  in  the  presence  of  the  audience — fi'e- 
qucntly,  perhaps,  also  an  uncertainty  about  the  thing  said 


Written  and  Extemporary  Sermons. 


1 1  I 


itself,  All  these  enter  into  the  "  fear  of  man  that  brinfi^s 
the  snare,"  we  often  pray  against  that  fear,  but  few  per- 
haps have  practically  realized  how  per]^)etually  it  haunts 
the  speaker,  and  enfeebles  all  discoui'se  ;  there  is  only  one 
fear  which  can  give  strength  in  the  pulpit :  fear  for  the  Ark 
of  the  Lord  ;  feai'  of  God,  fear  in  the  presence  of  the  felt,  but 
invisible,  tnith.  A  man  would  not  be  very  com'ageous  with 
a  ghost  in  the  room.  A  trembling  hesitating  soul  scaiified 
by  a  multitude,  it  could  not  be  expected  to  clothe  itself 
with  power  ;  it  is  the  \dctim  of  its  own  fear,  it  is  not  merely 
the  fear  of  the  gi-een-baized  and  red-ciu-tained  pew  where 
Mr.  Eigsby  sits,  who  pays  £20  a  year  for  it ;  or  that  highly 
intelligent  yomig  man,  Mr.  Crumpit,  with  the  cold  eye  be- 
hind his  spectacles,  who  has  studied  at  Gottingen  or  Tub- 
ingen, had  an  article  in  the  last  number  of  The  Transcend- 
ental Bagman,  and  takes  in  the  Saturday  and  Westminister 
Beviews.  It  is  not  merely  the  fear  of  that  still  more  temble 
array  of  old  Billy's  and  Peggys  who  sit  beneath  the  pulpit, 
and  shi'ink  then-  shoulders,  very  much  to  the  young  broth- 
er's terror,  when  anything  goes  wrong,  and  nod  theu'  dear 
old  heads  approvingly  when  anythmg  bites  them  and  goes 
right.  It  is  not  even  the  fear  of  those  more  dreadful  insti- 
tutions, the  churchwardens  or  the  deacons — ^but  it  is  a  fear 
comx^osed  of  all  these  things  put  together,  and  no  doubt 
the  hi'st  thing  towards  pulpit  efficiency  is,  get  rid  of  your 
fears — only  get  rid  of  them  legitimately,  not  by  impudence, 
not  by  mere  boldness,  but  by  sound-heai-ted  jjiousness,  by 
true  knowledge,  by  rehance,  not  upon  your  method,  but 
yoiu'  truth.  Especially  by  abihty  to  sa}^,  Lord,  I  have  done 
all  I  can,  and  now  I  leave  the  result  to  thee. 

This  alone  will  save  from  that  literary  vanity  which  is 
often  at  the  foundation  of  the  read  discourse.  Almost  all 
that  foliage  of  flowery  bewilderment  in  which  some  wiiters 
indulge  is  of  this  kind,  literary  vanity,  which  must  be  put 
on  paper.   "  I  caution  you,"  says  the  gi-eat  Herder,  "  against 


1 1 2  Dangers  of  Literary  Vanity, 

committing  to  memory  beautiful  exi^ressions  and  flowery 
sentences,  they  entice  a  i^erson  from  the  right  path  ;  and 
the  young  man  who  follows  such  false  lights  is  lost.  A  man 
who  seizes  on  beautiful  words,  and  for  the  sake  of  them, 
wiite  out  pages  of  fine  sentences,  I  cannot  regard  with  con- 
fidence ;  he  is  doing  a  senseless  childish  piece  of  work.  All 
ilond  language  should  spring  out  of  the  subject  itself,  just 
as  natm*al  flowers  spiing  out  of  the  earth.  Images  and 
figiu'es  should  be  naturally  connected  with  the  subject,  as 
a  bough  and  its  twig,  or  as  a  blossom  and  its  leaf  spring 
necessarily,  as  it  were,  from  such  particular  root  or  such  a 
stem."  And  to  the  same  effect,  John  Foster  :  "  A  gaudy 
verbosity  is  always  eloquence  in  the  opinion  of  him  that 
writes  it,  but  what  is  its  effect  upon  the  reader  ?  Ecal 
eloquence  strikes  upon  the  mind  with  ii'resistible  force,  and 
leaves  you  not  the  possibility  of  asking  or  thinking  whether 
it  be  eloquence,  but  the  sounding  sentences  of  these  writers 
leave  you  cool  enough  to  examine  with  doubtful  curiosity, 
a  language  that  seems  threatening  to  move  or  astonish  you, 
without  actually  doing  it,  it  is  something  hke  the  false  alarm 
of  thiuider  ;  where  a  sober  man  that  is  not  apt  to  startle 
at  sounds  looks  out  to  see  whether  it  be  not  the  rumbhng 
of  a  cart  ?"  Among  the  great  reasons  of  the  aversion  of  men 
of  taste  to  Evangelical  religion,  I  think  we  may  include  fine 
preaching — the  attempt,  so  disgusting,  to  say  fine  things — 
which  really  produce  the  effect  on  the  cultivated  taste, 
exactly  hke  that  of  the  young  preacher  describing  the  ex- 
pansive character  of  the  human  mind.  *'  Yes,  my  friends, 
the  mind  of  man  is  so  expansive  that  it  can  soar  fr*om  star 
to  star,  and  fr*om  satchchte  to  satchelite,  and  fr'om 
serapheem  to  seraj^heem,  and  from  cheiTybeam  to  cheriy- 
beam,  and  from  thence  to  the  centre  of  the  doom  of 
heaven." 

But  there  are  other  preachers  icho  read  their  seimfionsfrom 
a  godly  fear — the  paper  before  the  e^^es,  the  exact  word 


Wrltte)i  and  J^xtemporarjj  Sermons.       1 1  3 

leads  to  a  subdued  manner  of  discoui'se,  wliich  is  also  one 
of  the  most  effective  and  powerful ;  the  paper  pulls  the  too 
impulsive  speaker  back,  reins  him  in  wisely,  where  other- 
wise he  might  trip  or  stumble  or  where  he  might  msh  in- 
to too  bold  and  irreverent  a  style  of  speech.  For  this  same 
reason  also,  some  men,  who  have  never  lacked  language, 
have  yet  chained  their  memories  to  a  written  form  of 
words,  and  it  must  be  remembered  that  aU  wliich  passes 
for  extemporaneous  has  often  this  qualification,  a  very  im- 
portant one,  and  adding,  we  might  suppose,  much  to  the 
nervousness  of  the  preacher.  The  gi-eat  condition  I  would 
make  is  this — ^the  mind  and  heai-t  should  be  ahve  and  at 
work  in  the  pulpit.  I  beheve  if  they  are  they  will  not  fail 
to  win.  I  see  no  objection  to  the  use  of  corks  in  learning  to 
swim,  but  you  see  those  who  use  corks,  they  plunge  and 
use  their  arms,  and  in  fact  they  are  ahve  in  the  water.  I 
daresay  with  many  preachers  it  is  like  swimming,  like  tak- 
ing a  fatal  plunge,  and  for  such  the  notes  are  a  kind  of  cork. 
"When  Suns  Eeeves  declaims  in  Exeter  Hall,  he  has  his 
notes  before  him,  the  word  and  the  bar.  I  would  not  have 
you  cast  off  from  a  like  help,  but  the  words  and  the 
bar  would  be  of  little  use  without  the  skill,  the  knowledge, 
and  the  soul  of  music.  These  in  any  case  must  go  as  con- 
ditions with  you  into  the  j)ulpit — a  mind  above  the  fear  of 
man,  strong  in  the  confidence  of  your  own  ti-uth,  subdued 
by  that  tiTith,  and  not  pragmatically  bold,  and  as  much 
ahve,  and  impressed,  and  at  work  there,  as  in  j^our  own 
study.  I  think  if  you  remember  and  act  upon  these  con- 
ditions, you  will,  with  your  notes  or  without,  be  beyond 
the  condemnation  implied  in  the  words  of  Cotton  Mather, 
"  How  can  you  expect  your  hearers  to  remember  what,  but 
for  your  book,  you  are  afraid  you  should  yourself  forget "  ? 
Referrmg  to  the  advantages  of  written  sermons,  I  know 
it  will  be  said,  that  they  give  compression  to  thought,  and 
compactness  to  style.     Remember^  then,  that  tJiis  is  not  ovdi^ 


1 14    The  P readier  sJiould  Dilate  and  Dilute. 

narily  the  thing  you  are  to  cultivate  for  the  pulpit.  Tliis  may- 
do  for  an  occasional  sermon,  perhaps.  You  ought  to  set 
aside  some  service  in  the  month  when  you  will  aim  at  this, 
but  ordinaiily  you  must  diffuse — diffuse,  beat  out  the  gold 
— not  one  person  in  a  thousand  of  your  hearers  will  be 
good  gold-beaters  ;  imwind  the  skein  of  silk,  not  one  per- 
son in  a  thousand  will  do  this — they  pay  you  to  do  it  for 
them.  Your  audience  will  not  forgive  you  if  you  give 
them  too  much  to  think  about,  and  I  believe  this  would  be 
found  to  be  the  reason  of  the  popularity  of  those  inen 
who  wi-ote  theu'  sermons.  Dr.  Chalmers  was  very  diffusive 
— far  too  diffusive,  thought  Robert  Hall — -"  all  very  excel- 
lent, but  why  not  go  on,  sir,  why  not  go  on?  It's  all 
round  the  api)le,  all  round  the  apx)le."  Well,  that  is  what 
the  people  generally  need — all  round  the  apple,  all  round 
the  apple.  Dilate — diffuse ;  this  is  the  great  business  of 
the  preacher,  to  present  the  same  subject  in  many  aspects, 
in  many  lights,  enforced  by  many  considerations,  and 
usually  extemporaneous  preaching  is  more  favorable  to 
this.  The  proverbial  style,  therefore,  is  difficult,  almost 
unsuitable  perhaps,  for  the  miwTitten  speech  ;  but  on  the 
contrary,  who  would  write  a  X3arable,  an  allegory,  or  anec- 
dote ?  Very  true  are  the  sayings  of  Owen  Feltham,  "  I 
never  yet  knew  a  good  tongue  that  wanted  ears  to  hear  it." 
But  it  is  a  difficult  thing  to  bring  about  a  perfect  harmony 
between  the  memory  and  feeling,  especially  if  the  deUvery 
is  to  be  saved  from  the  appearance  of  mere  recitation.  It 
is  true  also,  as  the  same  quaint  writer  has  said,  "  It  is  a 
wonder  to  me  how  men  can  preach  so  little  and  so  long  ; 
so  long  a  time,  and  so  httle  matter.  As  if  they  thought 
to  please  by  the  inculcation  of  their  vain  tautologies.  Y^'et 
if  we,  out  of  copper,  lead,  or  pewter  preaching,  can  ex- 
tract pure  gold,  'tis  no  impeachment  to  oiu*  "vsise  ]^hilosophy." 
There  is  one  ffvcat  ad cantage  and  one  great  damjer  in  extempore 
preachinpr,  with  which  wc  will  conclude. 


Written  and  Extempo7'ary  Sermons.       i  i  r 

The  advantage  is  tliia,  which,  in  a  late  article  of  the  Quarterly 
Review^  on  "  The  Parish  Priest,"  is  described  in  some  such  words 
as  these — but  we  quote  only  from  memory — "  To  those  who  do 
not  repeat  memoriter^  but  are  masters  of  their  subject,  there  is 
the  advantage  that  they  can  watch  the  effect  of  their  words 
upon  their  audience,  and  consequently  contract  or  expand  their 
arguments,  and  vary  their  illustrations  according  to  the  pulse 
of  their  audience,  and  the  impression  which  they  see  to  be  pro- 
duced ;  and  this,  in  St.  Augustine's  opinion,  vras  the  essential 
element  of  jmlpit  success.  The  happiest  flights  are  those  which 
are  born  of  the  occasion,  the  warmth  of  which  v.ill  atone  for 
many  defects  of  style."  If  we  made  up  our  conversation  before 
we  went  to  a  party,  how  flat  it  would  fall  compared  with 
that  which  arises  out  of  the  occasion  ;  now  something  analogous 
to  this  occurs  in  preaching — at  least  sufficiently  analogous  to 
bear  comparison.  True,  the  audience  at  sermons  cannot  enter 
into  a  conversation  with  their  tongues,  but  they  can  make  the 
response  to  the  preacher  with  the  intelligence  of  their  eyes  and 
features.  The  preacher  gazing  into  their  countenances  can  see 
how  far  they  appreciate,  approve,  or  understand.  In  lecturing 
on  science,  Arago  picked  out  a  dull  type  of  humanity  among 
his  hearers,  with  a  low  forehead.  On  him  he  kept  his  eye  fixed 
— he  addressed  himself  to  him  as  if  there  were  no  other  present, 
and  by  the  effect  of  his  explanations,  as  reflected  in  this  man's 
countenance,  he  judged  of  their  influence  ujjon  the  rest  of  his 
audience.  When  this  pupil  remained  unconvinced,  the  orator 
tried  new  arguments  and  illustrations  till  light  beamed  on  his 
countenance.  "  We  often  see,"  says  a  modern  preacher,  "  as  we 
go  on  in  our  discourse,  from  the  straining  attention  of  some  in 
the  crowd,  that  we  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  what  we  have 
spoken.  Are  we,  then,  to  go  forward  without  making  another 
attempt  with  some  change  of  address  or  variation  of  imagery  ?" 
The  extempore  preacher  will,  then,  in  this  point,  stand  at  a 
manifest  advantage,  because  he  has  more  freedom  ;  he  can  strike 
as  he  sees  his  blows  tell ;  if  he  sees  his  argument  is  beyond  his 
audience,  he  can  refrain.  We  will  suppose  his  notes  to  be  cer- 
tain algebraic  symbols,  or  natural  contractions  and  signs,  leav- 
ing the  sul)ordinate  fillings  up  to  the  impressivcness  and  excita- 


ii6  Words  of  the  Wylceliamist 

tions  of  the  moment.  Around  these  algebraic  symbols  the  ex- 
temporist  can  swing  at  leisure,  anchoring  the  head  of  his  ship 
to  them  to  avoid  losing  his  course,  while  he  has  sufficient  elas- 
ticity to  swing  gracefully,  expanding  or  contracting  at  will. 
"What  would  look  like  repetition  upon  paper  does  not  sound  like 
rejietition  when  spoken  ;  and  repetition,  with  slight  variations, 
is  necessary  for  the  full  understanding  of  many  things.  To 
the  preacher  from  notes,  we  may  say  what  Dr.  Johnson  said  to 
Boswell,  w^hen  he  handed  him  notes  for  a  speech  to  an  election 
committee  in  the  House  of  Commons, — "  This,  sir,  you  must  en- 
large on ;  you  must  not  argue  there  as  if  you  were  arguing  to 
the  schools.  You  must  say  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again 
in  different  words.  If  you  say  it  but  once  they  miss  it  in  a 
moment  of  inattention."  Fox  advised  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  when 
about  to  sum  up  the  evidence  in  Lord  Melville's  trial,  "not  to 
be  afraid  of  repeating  observations  which  were  material."  Pitt 
urged  a  similar  defence  for  that  amplification  which  was  thought 
a  defect  in  his  style.  "  Every  jierson,"  he  said,  "  who  addressed 
a  public  assembly,  and  v/as  anxious  to  make  an  impression  on 
particular  points,  must  either  be  copious  upon  some  points  or  else 
repeat  them,  and  coi^iousness  is  to  be  preferred  to  repetition." 
Lord  Brougham  gives  his  testimony  on  the  same  side, — "  The 
orator  often  feels  that  he  could  add  strength  to  his  composition 
by  compression^  but  his  hearers  would  then  be  unable  to  keep 
pace  with  him,  and  he  is  compelled  to  sacrifice  conciseness  to 
clearness.  The  expansion,  which  is  a  merit  at  the  moment  of 
cleliKcry,  is  turned  into  a  defect  wdien  a  speech  is  'printed.  TVliat 
before  was  impressive  seems  now  to  be  verbose,  and  the  efiect 
is  diminished  in  much  the  same  proportion  as  originally  it  was 
increased.  It  w^as  for  some  such  reason  that  Fox  asserted,  that 
if  a  speech  was  read  well  it  was  a  bad  si^eech.  No  Athenian 
audience  could  have  followed  Demosthenes  in  the  condensed 
firm  in  which  his  speeches  are  printed." — Quarterly  Bevieio] 
No.  200.  Fuller  reminds  us  that  to  the  iinediicated  listener,  the 
intellectual  food  sliould  not  be  presented  in  too  solid  a  form, 
saying,  in  his  inimitable  way,  "  without  a  fair  proportion  of  chaff 
a  horse  is  apt  to  bolt  his  oats." "'' 

*  Papers  on  Preaching,  etc. 


Written  and  Extemporary  Sermons.       1 1 7 

But  it  is  impoi'tant  to  notice  that  when  extemporaneous 
preaching  is  determined  on,  there  should  also  be  determin- 
ed on  some  method  to  give  effect  to  the  detemimation. 
One  of  these  determinations  is,  perhaps,  as  to  the  length 
of  the  sermon.  It  might  be  wise  to  learn  the  lesson  taught 
by  the  fate  of  Eutychus.  A  Sunday-school  teacher  ex- 
amirdng  his  class,  asked,  "^\^lo  was  Eutychus?"  "A 
young  man  who  heard  Paul  preach,  and  falling  do^^Ti,  was 
taken  up  dead."  "And  from  this  circumstance  what  do 
we  learn?"  "Please  sh,  we  learn  that  ministers  should 
not  preach  long  sermons." 

When  Judge  Jenkins  expected  to  be  hung  by  the  Parlia- 
ment for  his  zeal  as  a  Royahst  in  the  civil  wars  of  England, 
he  manifested  a  gi'cat  desire  for  his  political  martyrdom, 
and  resolved  to  go  to  the  gallows  with  Bracton  on  his  left 
shoulder,  the  statutes  at  large  on  his  right,  and  the  Bible 
round  his  neck,  that  these  books,  he  said,  as  having  been 
his  counsellors,  should  hang  with  him.  "  And  first,"  said 
he,  "  I  will  eat  much  liquorice  and  gingerbread,  thereby  to 
strengthen  my  lungs,  that  I  may  s^^eak  the  louder,  and  be 
heard  far  and  near."  Stiff  determination  this,  and  so  I 
may  say,  if  you  determine  on  extemporary  speech  some 
preparation  is  needed.  There  are  natural  quahties  needed. 
You  may  with  profit  refer  to  and  read  the  essay  of  the 
AWe  Bautain  on  this  very  topic*  I  will  not  dwell  ujDon 
these  here,  because  they  have  already  in  a  measure  engaged 
us,  excepting  that  I  notice  for  the  extemporary  power,  the 
necessity  of  a  fii'm  and  decisive  will.  That  is  the  power 
which  will  hold  and  modify  the  imagination  ;  will  control 
the  resources  already  prepared — w^ill  also  guide  the  mind 
to  the  employment  of  that  gi'and  necessity  of  all  successful 
public  speech — good  sense,  right  reason,  the  salvation  of  the 

*  The  Art  of  Extempore  Preacliing.  Hints  for  the  Pulpit,  the 
Senate,  and  the  Bar.  By.  M.  Bautain,  Vicar-General  and  Professor 
at  tlie  Sorbonne,  etc.,  etc. 


1 1 8  ^^Begui  Low — Proceed  SIow^ 

mind  from  mere  evaporating  details.  Good  sense  is  (lie  great 
fitness  for  the  sj:>eech  of  the  orator.  Then  for  this  speech 
there  are  acquired  quaHties  and  habits  of  the  mind  needed  : 
have  a  fund^  an  exchequer,  have  a  stock  and  store  to  fall 
upon.  "  That  you  know  how  to  speak — first  know  how  to 
think !  "  Is  it  not  true  that  our  self-respect  may  be  raised 
by  the  furnishing  of  our  minds,  by  the  feeling  that  we 
have  indeed  a  right  to  be  heard  ?  Then  may  not  our  self- 
possession  be  educated,  and  we  made  more  collected,  and 
steady,  and  calm?  And  shall  we  not  especially  educate 
this  faculty  by  a  principle  of  order  ?  it  may  be  hidden,  but 
not  the  less  there,  manifest.  Then  by  the  arrangement  of 
eveiy  part — the  illustrative  texts,  and  the  illustrative  images, 
the  quaint  proverb,  and  the  relieving  anecdote.  "We  have 
indeed  no  right  to  think  that  all  this  will  be  worked  quite 
easily  and  happily  at  first.  But  order,  order,  makes  an 
extemporaneous  effort  easy,  and  without  order  I  do  not 
wonder  if  it  is  thought  by  many  impossible.  Clear  and 
an-ange  the  things  in  your  own  mind  ;  throw  yourself  in  a 
path  of  light,  and  you  will  move  easily  and  happily,  and 
you  will  not  fail  to  carry  those  whom  you  address  in  that 
path  with  you. 

And  for  successful  extempore  speaking  there  are  two  or 
three  httlc  maxims  of  common  sense,  almost  you  "v\ill  per- 
haps think  beneath  the  notice  of  a  learned  lecturer,  but 
they  very  materially  affect  the  discourse.  When  you  begin 
to  preach  do  as  you  do  also  when  you  begin  to  drive — not 
aJt  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour  at  starting.  No,  a  very  good 
horse,  perhaps,  but  for  the  first  five  or  ten  minutes  even 
two  miles  an  hour  may  be  best  "Begin  low,''  said  old 
Dr.  Leifchild,  "  and  Proceed  sloic."  Very  much  has  this  to 
do  with  the  preseiwation  of  youi'  own  mind  in  a  state  of 
cool  and  self-possessed  equabihty  and  fii-mness.  Thousands 
of  good  sermons  have  been  lost  because  they  have  been 
begim  in  a  hurry.     All  tlimgs  are  badly  done,  done  in  a 


Written  and  Extein])orary  Sermons.       1 1  o 

hurry,  but  especially  sermons.  Take  it  coolly  at  first  ;  be 
very  still  witliiu  yoiu'self.  Youi*  remarks  may  be  common- 
place— or  if  impressive,  still  then  veiy  clear  and  calm. 

Begin  low  ;  very  few  sermons  or  preachers  can  stand  the 
test  of  a  lofty,  or  inflamed,  or  impassioned  exordium,  or,  for 
that  matter,  few  audiences  either.  It  should  be  the  preach- 
er's aim  to  put  himself  on  good  tenns  with  his  hearers — 
to  rest  himseK  in  and  on  his  subject,  and  to  be  at  rest  with 
them,  and  to  soothe  them  to  quiet  rest  in  and  on  liim. 
There  are  some  instances  of  even  the  noble  and  magnificent 
exordium  ;  but  the  wisdom  of  the  preacher  will  be  usually 
shown  in  using  language  and  ideas,  which  shall  be  simply 
statement,  explanation,  and  verbal  elucidation.  The  occa- 
sional sermon  may  perhaps  forcibly  seize  and  command 
the  attention  at  once  ;  but  this  will  be  always  perilous  un- 
less the  preacher  is  perfectly  at  home  in  his  subject,  in 
himself,  and  with  liis  hearers,  and  is  conscious  of  his  abihty 
to  hold  m  the  same  manner  the  attention  to  the  close.  It 
is  one  of  the  arts  of  puI^Dit  eloquence,  the  introduction, 
sui'ely  it  should  never  be  careless  ;  on  the  contrary,  always 
simple,  never  imaginative,  never  on  any  account  highly 
wrought.  So  also  the  follo-ssing  of  Hare's  Sermons  for  Easter, 
"  He  is  risen,*'  seems  to  me  also  for  the  pui-pose  of  introduc- 
tion perfect. 

"  Christ  is  risen  ! "  Such  is  the  greeting  in  Russia  on  the 
morning  of  Easter-day.  In  the  great  city  of  Moscow,  and 
throughout  the  whole  country,  when  two  friends  meet  on  this 
morning,  one  of  them  says  to  the  other,  ''  Christ  is  risen ! " 
Among  all  the  customs  I  ever  read  of,  this  to  my  mind  is  one  of 
the  most  Christian  and  most  beautiful.  It  is  seeing  the  resur- 
rection of  Jesus  Christ  in  its  true  light,  not  as  a  fact  which 
we  are  merely  to  believe,  because  it  is  written  in  the  Kew  Testa- 
ment, without  thinking  or  caring  much  about  it,  but  as  a  piece 
of  good  news  to  ourselves,  which  we  cannot  help  speaking  of  for 
joy.     What  the  Russians  then  have  said  to  each  other  on  Easter 


120       Laurence  Sterne — The  Exordium. 

Day  fur  lumdrcds  of  years,  let  mc  now  say  to  you,  let  mc  say  to 
you  with  a  joyful  and  thankful  heart,  "  Christ  is  risen!"  The 
battle  is  over.  The  great  contest  between  God,  the  incarnate 
Son,  fighting  for  us,  and  sin  and  death  fighting  against  us,  is 
decided.  Sin,  having  first  been  baffled  by  the  life  of  blameless 
holiness,  and  unwearied  active  goodness,  which  the  Man  Jesus 
so  long  led,  was  conquered  on  Good  Friday  on  the  Cross.  Death, 
the  last  and  only  remaining  enemy,  was  conquered  this  morning 
by  the  Resurrection.  The  victory  is  complete,  their  yoke  is 
broken,  their  sting  is  taken  away ;  we  have  nothing  more  to 
fear  from  either.  For  Christ  has  risen,  and  by  His  rising  has 
assured  us  that  wo  shall  rise  also. 

It  has  often  been  the  case  that  preachers  have  adopted 
a  quite  hysterical  style  in  the  commencement  of  their  ser- 
mons— a  sort  of  attention-at-any-price  kind  of  style — well 
illustrated  in  the  sermons  of  Laurence  Steene  ;  a  strange 
man  to  find  in  the  pulpit  at  all  ;  but  his  sermons,  prin- 
cipally from  the  w^ide  fame  of  the  wit,  attained  to  a  large 
celebrity,  nor  are  they  without  some  excellences,  but  chiefly 
of  the  sentimental  and  satiric  kind  ;  jerks  and  aiiinces 
abound  through  them  all,  but  especially  in  the  commence- 
ments.    Thus  from  Eccles.  vii.  2,  3  : — 

*'  IT     IS    BETTER    TO   GO   TO   THE   HOUSE   OF    MOURNING   THAN   TO 
THE   HOUSE   OF  FEASTING." 

That  I  deny  ; — but  let  us  hear  the  wise  man's  reasoning  upon 
it, — "for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  living  will  lay  it  to 
liis  heart :  sorrow  is  better  than  laughter :  "—/or  a  cracTc-lrained 
order  of  Cdrthusian  monls,  I  grant ^  lut  not  for  men  of  the  world. 
For  what  purpose,  do  you  imagine,  has  God  made  us  ?  for  the 
social  sweets  of  the  well-watered  valleys,  where  He  has  planted 
us,  or  for  the  dry  and  dismal  desert  of  a  Sierra  Morena  ?  Are 
the  sad  accidents  of  life,  and  the  uncheery  hours  which  perpetu- 
ally overtake  us,  are  they  not  enough,  but  we  must  sally  forth  in 
quest  of  them, — belie  our  own  hearts,  and  say,  as  your  text 
would  have  us,  that  they  are  better  than  those  of  joy  ?  Did  the 
Ucst  of  Beings  scud  tis  in<  >  the  vf  orld  for  tliis  end, — to  go  weep- 


Written  and  Extemporary  Sermons. 


12 


ing  through  it, — to  vex  and  shorten  a  life  sliort  and  vexatious 
enough  already  ?  Do  you  think,  my  good  preacher,  that  He 
who  is  infinitely  happy,  can  envy  us  our  enjoyments  ?  or  that  a 
Being  so  infinitely  kind,  would  grudge  a  mournful  traveller  the 
short  rest  and  refreshments  necessary  to  support  his  spirits 
through  the  stages  of  a  weary  jDilgrimage  ?  or  that  He  would 
call  him  to  a  severe  reckoning,  because  in  his  way  he  had  hastily 
snatched  at  some  little  fugacious  pleasures,  merely  to  sweeten 
this  uneasy  journey  of  life,  and  reconcile  him  to  the  ruggedness 
of  the  road,  and  the  many  hard  jostlings  he  is  sure  to  meet 
with  ? 

Surely  a  most  unwise  and  iiTeverent  mode  of  oi^ening  up 
a  subject.  Again,  in  his  sermon  on  the  character  of  Shimei 
— one  of  the  best  illustrations  of  Sterne's  style — in  which 
he  shows  how  Shimei  reflects  all  the  features  of  David, 
according  to  the  tiTie  temper  of  the  world — as  David  is 
l^rospered,  he  honors  him  ;  as  he  is  unlucky,  he  reviles 
him. 
"  But  Abishai  said,  Shall  not  Shimei  be  put  to  death  for  this  ?" 

— It  has  not  a  good  asjyect. — This  is  the  second  time  Abishai 
has  proiDosed  Shimei's  destruction. 

The  following  passage  illustrates  Sterne's  better,  but 
wholly  ethical  and  unevangelical,  style  : — 

In  all  David's  prosperity,  there  is  no  mention  made  of  him  ; — 
he  thrust  himself  forward  into  the  circle,  and,  possibly,  was 
number'd  amongst  friends  and  well-wishers. 

When  the  scene  changes,  and  David's  trouliles  force  him  to 
leave  his  house  in  despair, — Shimei  is  the  first  man  we  hear  of 
who  comes  out  against  him. 

The  wheel  turns  round  once  more ;  Absalom  is  cast  down, 
and  David  returns  in  peace  : — Shimei  suits  his  behavior  to  the 
occasion,  and  is  the  first  man  also  who  hastes  to  greet  him  ; — 
and,  had  the  wheel  tum'd  round  a  hundred  times,  Shimei,  I 
dare  say,  in  every  jDcriod  of  its  rotation,  would  have  been  upper- 
most, 

O  Shimei !  would  to  Heaven,  when  thou  Avast  slain,  that  all 

SECOND   SERILS.        G 


122  Laurence  Sterne. 

thy  fiimily  had  been  slain  ^vith  llice.  and  not  one  of  thy  resem- 
blance left !  but  ye  have  multiplied  exceedingly,  and  replenished 
the  earth  ;  and,  if  I  prophesy  rightly, — ye  will  in  the  end  subdue  it ! 

There  is  not  a  character  in  the  world  which  has  so  had  an  in- 
fluence upon  the  affairs  of  it,  as  this  of  Shimei.  TVIiilst  power 
meets  with  honest  checks,  and  the  evils  of  life  with  honest  re- 
fuge, the  world  will  never  be  undone  :  but  thou,  Shimei,  hast 
snapp'd  it  at  both  extremes  ;  for  thou  corruptest  prosperity, — 
and  'tis  thou  wlio  hast  broken  the  heart  of  poverty ;  and,  so 
long  as  worthless  spirits  can  be  ambitious  ones,  'tis  a  character 
we  shall  never  want.  O  !  it  infects  the  court, — the  camp, 
the  cabinet ! — it  infects  the  church  ! — go  where  you  will, — 
in  every  quartci',  in  every  profession,  you  see  a  Shimei  follow- 
ing the  wheels  of  the  forlunatc  through  thick  mire  and  clay  I — 

— Haste,  Shimei — haste,  or  thou  wilt  be  undone  for  ever. 
Shimei  girdeth  up  his  loins  and  speedeth  after  him.  Behold 
the  hand  which  governs  everything, — takes  the  wheels  from  off 
his  chariot,  so  that  he  who  driveth,  driveth  on  heavily.  Shimei 
doubles  his  speed, — but  'tis  the  contrai*y  way  ;  he  flies  like  the 
wind  over  a  sandy  desert,  and  the  place  thereof  shall  know  it 
no  more  :—  stay,  Shimei  !  'tis  your  patron, — your  friend, — your 
benefactor  :  'tis  the  man  who  has  raised  you  from  the  dunghill ! 
'Tis  all  one  to  Shimei ;  Shimei  is  a  barometer  of  every  man's 
fortune ;  marks  the  rise  and  fall  of  it,  with  all  the  variations 
from  scorching  hot  to  freezing  cold  upon  his  countenance,  that 
the  smile  will  admit  of.  Is  a  cloud  upon  thy  affairs  ? — see, — it 
liangs  over  Shimei's  brow.  Ilast  thou  been  spoken  for  to  the 
king  or  the  captain  of  the  host  without  success  ?  Look  not 
into  the  court-calender; — the  vacancy  is  filled  U})  in  Shimei's 
face.  Art  thou  in  debt  ? — though  not  to  Shimei, — ^no  matter ; — 
the  worst  officer  of  the  law  shall  not  be  more  insolent. 

But  I  speak  of  Sterne's  exordiums,  tliiis  in  the  case  of 
Hezekiah  and  the  messengers  : — 
"And  he  said,  what  have  they  seen  in  thine  house  ?  and  ITezekiah 

answered,  All  the  things  that  are  in  my  house  have  they  seen ; 

there  is  notliing  amongst  all  my  treasure  that  I  have  not  shewn 

them." 
.  —  And  where  is  the  harm,  you'll  say,  in  :iH  this  ? 


Writte)i  and  Extemporary  Sermons.       123 

Again  : — 

" — For  we  trust  we  have  a  good  conscience. — " 

Trust !  Trust  we  have  a  good  conscience  !  Surely,  you  will 
say,  if  there  is  anything  in  this  life  which  a  man  may  depend 
upon,  and  to  the  knowledge  of  which  he  is  capable  of  arriving 
upon  the  most  indisputable  evidence,  it  must  be  this  very  thing : 
Whether  he  has  a  good  conscience,  or  no. 

If  a  man  thinks  at  all,  he  cannot  well  be  a  stranger  to  the  true 
state  of  this  account.  He  must  be  privy  to  his  own  thoughts 
and  desires.  He  must  remember  his  past  i:)ursuits,  and  know 
certainly  the  true  springs  and  motives  which,  in  general,  have 
governed  the  actions  of  his  life. 

Again : — 

"  Despiseth  thou  the  riches  of  his  goodness,  and  forbearance, 

and  long  suffering, — not  knowing  that  the  goodness  of  God 

leadeth  thee  to  repentance  ? 

So  says  St.  Paul.     And  Eccles.  viii.  11 : 
'*  Because  sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily, 

therefore  the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them  to 

do  evil." 

Take  either  as  you  like  it,  you  will  get  nothing  by  the  bargain. 

The  man  liad  little  regard  for  the  delicacy  of  anything 
lie  chose  to  say  in  the  pulpit  or  elsewhere  ;  he  had  a  cour- 
ageous famiharit}',  which  must  have  been  confounding  to 
rustic  hearers — and  such  for  the  most  part  his  hearers 
always  were.  Mr.  Gladstone  has  attempted  to  do  a  kindly 
justice  to  Laui-ence  Sterne  ;  but  read  a  sermon  on  the 
Levite  and  his  Concubine,  and  notice  what  sad  rubbish  the 
Rabelais  of  the  Enghsh  pulpit  could  not  only  talk  but 
print : — 
"  And  it  came  pass  in  those  days,  when  there  was  no  king  in 

Israel,  that  there  was  a  certain  Levite  sojourning  on  (he  side 

of  Mount  Ephraim,  who  took  unto  him  a  concubine." 

— A  concubine  ! — but  the  text  accounts  for  it ;  "  for  in  those 
days  there  was  no  king  in  Israel,*"  and  the  Levite,  you  will  say, 
like  every  other  man  in  it,  did  what  was  right  in  his  own  eyes  ; 


I  24  Laurence  Sterne, 


— and  so,  you  may  add,  did  his  concubine  too,—"  for  she  played 
the  -whore  against  him,  and  went  away." 

— Then  shame  and  grief  go  with  her  :  and  wherever  she  seeks 
a  shelter,  may  the  hand  of  justice  shut  the  door  against  her. 

Not  so  ;  for  she  went  unto  her  father's  house  in  Bethlehcm- 
judah,  and  was  with  him  four  whole  months.  Blessed  interval 
for  meditation  upon  the  fickleness  and  vanity  of  this  world  and 
its  pleasures  !  I  see  the  holy  man  upon  his  knees, — with  hands 
compressed  to  his  bosom,  and  with  uplifted  eyes,  thanking 
Heaven  that  the  object  which  had  so  long  shared  his  affection 
was  fled ! 

The  text  gives  a  different  j^icture  of  his  situation  "for  he 
arose  and  went  after  her,  to  speak  friendly  to  her,  and  to  bring 
her  back  again,  having  his  servant  with  him,  and  a  couple  of 
asses  :  and  she  brought  him  unto  her  father's  house  ;  and  when 
the  father  of  the  damsel  saw  him,  he  rejoiced  to  meet  him." 

— A  most  sentimental  group  !  you'll  say  :  and  so  it  is,  my  good 
commentator,  but  the  world  talks  of  every  thing.  Give  but  the 
outlines  of  a  storj'^, — let  Spleen  or  Prudery  snatch  the  jDencil,  and 
they  will  finish  it  with  so  many  hard  strokes,  and  with  so  dirty 
a  coloring,  that  t]!andour  and  Courtesy  will  sit  in  torture  as  they 
look  at  it.  Gentle  and  virtuous  spirits  !  ye  who  know  not  what 
it  is  to  be  rigid  interpreters,  but  of  your  own  failings, — to  you  I 
address  myself,  the  unhired  advocates  for  the  conduct  of  the 
misguided.  Whence  is  it  that  the  world  is  more  jealous  of  your 
office.  How  often  must  ye  repeat  it,  "That  such  a  one's  doing 
so  or  so,"  is  not  sufficient  evidence  by  itself  to  overthrow  the 
accused  !— that  our  actions  stand  sui  funded  with  a  thousand 
circumstances  which  do  not  present  themselves  at  first  sight  !— 
that  the  first  springs  and  motives  which  impell'd  the  unfortunate, 
lie  deeper  still ! — and,  that  of  the  millions  which  every  hour 
are  arraign'd,  thousands  of  them  may  have  err'd  merely  from 
the  liead^  and  been  actually  outwitted  into  evil !  and,  when  from 
the  Jicart^ — that  the  difficulties  and  temptations  under  which 
they  acted, — the  force  of  the  passions, — the  suitableness  of  the 
object,  and  the  many  struggles  of  Virtue  before  she  fell, — may 
be  so  many  appeals  from  Justice  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Pity  ! 

Here  then  let  us  s!op  a  m^mcnt  and  give  the  stoiy  of  the 
Levite  and  his  concul>ine  a  second  hearing. 


Written  and  Extemjporary  Sermons.       125 

How  different  is  all  this  levity  to  a  singular  exordium 
I  remember  of  Bishop  Andi-ews,  to  a  sermon  on  the  text, 
"  Eemember  Lot's  wile,"  Luke  xvii.  32  : — 

The  words  are  few  and  the  sentence  short ;  no  one  in  Scrip- 
ture so  short.  But  it  fareth  with  sentences  as  with  coins  ;  in 
coins  they  that  are  in  smallest  compass  contain  greatest  vahie, 
are  best  esteemed ;  and  in  sentences,  those  that  in  fewest  words 
comprise  most  matters,  are  most  praised.  Which  as,  of  all  sen- 
tences, it  is  true  ;  so  especially  with  those  that  are  marked  ^vith 
memento.  In  them  the  shorter  the  better  ;  the  better,  and  tlic 
better  carried  away  ;  and  the  better  kept ;  and  the  better  cahed 
for  when  we  need  it.  And  such  is  this  here  of  rich  contents, 
and  withal  exceeding  compendious.  So  that  we  must  needs  be 
without  all  excuse  (it  being  but  three  words  and  five  syllables) 
if  we  do  not  remember  it. 

As  you  advance  you  will  taJce  fire,  rise  higher,  and  the 
sermon  will  be  an  enjoyment  to  you  ;  but,  if  you  make  a 
mistake  in  the  starting  you  will  not  most  hkely  recover 
yourself  for  the  whole  sermon,  and  let  this  same  advice 
rule  3^ou  in  the  discourse.  Even  if  all  goes  well,  pause, 
look  about  you,  wait,  and  take  breath  ;  if  a  slight  embar- 
rassment seizes  you — if  a  word  trips,  again  be  cool.  If 
you  are  cool  the  audience  will  not  notice  it ;  if  you  are 
hurried  they  wiU  imagme  a  trip  where  there  is  none  at  all ; 
when  most  impressed  be  self-possessed,  I  know,  also,  how 
much  this  is  a  matter  of  temperament ;  but  siu'ely  temj^er- 
ament  may  be  modified — the  melancholy  may  be  made 
sanguine,  and  the  sanguine  made  wise !  These  are  of 
those  acquired  thmgs  which  give  success  to  the  spontan- 
eous speech  and  discoui'se. 

Beside  which  you  may  call  other  and  higher  powers  to 
yom-  aid,  as  in  the  following  interesting  anecdote  of  the 
Abb 6  Bautaiu  of  Paris. 

One  day  I  had  to  preach  in  one  of  tlie  principal  churches  in 
Paris.     It  was  a  solemn  festival,  and  there  was  an  inunense 


1 26  The  Ohjcct  of  Preaching. 

audience,  including  part  of  the  Court  then  reigning.  As  I  was 
ascending  the  pulpit  I  perceived  a  person  whom  I  had  supposed 
absent,  and  ray  mind  was  carried  away  suddenly  by  a  train  of 
recollections.  I  reached  the  pulpit-landing,  knelt  down  as  usual, 
and  when  I  should  have  risen  to  speak,  I  had  forgotten  not  only 
my  text,  but  even  the  subject  of  my  sermon.  I  literally  knew 
no  longer  what  I  had  come  to  speak  upon,  and,  despite  of  all  my 
efforts  to  remember  it,  I  could  see  nothing  but  one  complete 
blank.  My  embarrassment  and  anguish  may  be  conceived.  I 
remained  on  my  knees  a  little  longer  than  was  customaiy, 
not  knowing  what  to  do.  Nevertheless,  not  losing  head  or 
heart,  I  looked  full  at  my  danger  without  being  scared  by  it, 
yet  w^ithout  seeing  how  I  was  to  get  out  of  it.  At  last,  unable 
to  recover  anything  by  my  own  proper  strength, — neither 
subject  nor  text, — I  had  recourse  to  God,  and  I  said  to  Him, 
from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart  and  with  all  the  fervor  of  my 
anxiety, — "Lord,  if  it  be  Thy  will  that  I  preach,  give  me  back 
my  plan  ;  "  and  at  that  instant,  my  text  came  back  into  my  mind, 
and  with  my  text  the  subject.  I  think  that  never  in  my  life 
have  I  experienced  anything  more  astonishing,  nor  a  more  lively 
emotion  of  gratitude. 

I  avail  myseK  of  an  interesting  iUustration  fi'om  a  for- 
gotten, indeed,  never  well  known  although  very  excellent 
book.* 

It  seems  surprising,  no  doubt,  that  such  a  variety  of  forces 
and  equipments  should  be  emp'oyed  for  this  work  of  the 
ministry.  I  conceive  a  neighbor  who  has  a  son  tenderly 
loved,  who  in  the  season  of  youth  is  enticed  by  sinners,  and 
allured  by  pleasui'es  and  ofiended  by  his  father's  councils 
and  reproofs.  I  visit  the  father  sitting  beneath  some  soli- 
taiy  tree,  or  by  some  sorrowful  fireside.  He  tells  me  the 
cause  of  his  grief,  and  I  offer  to  use  my  endeavors  to  bring 
back  bis  son  ;  he  bids  me  go,  and  God  be  with  me  ;  but  in 

*  Lectures  on  the  Nature  and  End  of  the  Sacred  Office,  and.  an 
tlic  Dignity,  Dntu,  Qualijications  and  Character  of  the  Sacred  Order, 
by  John  Smith,  D,I>.,  one  of  the  Ministers  of  Campbleton.  Glasgow, 
1798. 


Wintten  and  JExtemporary  Sermons.       \  27 

order  to  accomplisli  the  object  what  fai-ther  directions  I 
wonder  would  he  give  me  ;  would  he  say,  Have  a  care  that 
you  aiTange  all  your  arguments  proj^erly,  and  that  yt^u 
speak  to  my  son  iii  mood  and  figure,  for  I  taught  him  lorj'ic  ; 
have  a  care  also  that  you  put  your  words  in  the  best  order, 
and  that  you  turn  your  periods  artificially  and  nicely,  for  I 
taught  my  boy  rlieloric  ;  and  take  care  especially  that  you 
pronoimce  j'oiu:  words  aright  and  commit  no  shp  in  gi'am- 
mar,  lest  you  offend  his  car,  for  my  boy  is  a  grammarian. 
No  ;  instead  of  speaking  in  this  unnatural  manner,  he  only 
says,  "  Go  and  bring  back  my  child^  set  your  heart  and 
soul  on  this  important  business  as  3'ou  wish  to  please  me,'* 
and  this  is  the  commission  our  Master  gives  to  us  ;  be  in 
earnest,  be  in  earnest,  the  hearers  cannot  be  unconcerned. 
This  then  wdU  be  that  state  to  which  the  gi'eat  Clirj-sos- 
tom  refers,  "I  have  been  told,"  says  he,  "and  I  can  well 
beheve  it,  by  a  certain  person,  that  he  had  seen  a  glorious 
\dsion  of  an  innumerable  compan}^  of  angels  bending  for- 
ward at  the  altar,  and  hstening  as  soldiers  aromid  their 
general."  And  what  a  consideration  is  this  to  a  Chiistian 
preacher,  the  Host  of  Heaven  suiTounding  him,  and  thus, 
w^hile  he  improves  one  order  of  beings,  he  regales  another, 
he  improves  men,  and  he  gives  joy  to  angels.  A  man  who 
believes  this  how  can  he  be  indifferent,  how  can  he  be  cold, 
how  can  he  confine  his  thoughts  to  the  mere  reading  a  pa- 
per, or  to  the  repetition  of  words  previously  committed  to 
memoiy  ?  On  our  theory  of  what  the  Christian  ministiy 
is,  it  seems  impossible  that  any  one  should  perform  the  of- 
fice of  the  ministiy  without  lifting  the  thoughts  heaven- 
W'ards  and  being  transported  to  the  invisible,  but  more  ac- 
tual worlds  of  light.  Tnis  is  the  mood  of  sj^irit  which  com- 
pels the  preacher  to  weep  and  to  fi'et ;  his  own  feelings 
command  the  feelings  of  his  audience.  And  "  Oh !  how 
deep  into  the  heart  go  those  periods,"  says  Robmsou, 
"  which  are  sown  in  the  unforced,  undcscribed  tears  of  the 


128    "  WJ/eii  7/1  ost  Impressed  he  Self-^possessedy 

preacher  ;  oiu*  iiiward  concern  should  break  foi*th  thi'oiigb 
every  pore,  and  without  anj^ihing  legal,  theatrical,  or  ex- 
travagant, give  life  and  animation  to  every  tone  of  the  voice 
to  every  feature  of  the  countenance.  If  you  wish  me  to 
weep,  you  must  weep  first  youi'self.  If  we  thus  plant  and 
arrange  the  forces  of  our  soul  I  conceive  we  ai-e  very  much 
in  the  same  case  at  which  the  fii'st  preachers  of  Hie  Gos- 
pel were,  fi'onting  a  wild  and  indifferent,  a  cultivated  race 
of  selfish  people,  but  they  had  no  mean,  not  a  base  amoimt 
of  intelligence,  and  no  wealth,  but  they  beheved  and  they 
succeeded. 

Hence,  when  most  impressed  be  seK-possessed.  When 
most  impressed?  it  is  not  mmatui-al  to  suj^pose  that  it  will 
be  at  the  close,  when  the  feelings  are  most  excited,  either 
in  the  preparation  or  the  clehvery  of  the  sermon  that  the 
impression  will  be  deepest  in  the  mind  and  most  ahve  in 
the  breast  of  the  preacher:  Yet  then,  it  will  not  be  by  the 
noisy  and  declamatory  manner  this  will  be  most  e\inced  ; 
power  is  reticent,  emotion  trembles  along  the  speech.  I 
apprehend  tliis  vail  not  be  knowTi  by  the  labored  elabora- 
tion of  what  is  called  the  peroration  ;  sometimes  I  know  it 
will  assume  a  passionate  and  rapt  form  of  appeal,  as  in  the 
following,  which  I  remember  to  have  heard  fi'om  James 
Parsons,  on  the  text  : — 


"  THOU  EESTRAENEST  PRAYER  BEFORE   GOD." 

I  speak  to  men  who  have  restrained  prayer  by  omitting  it  al- 
together; and  I  tell  them,  as  the  great  evil  now  impending  over 
their  condition,  that  if  they  live  and  die  without  the  spirit  of 
prayer,  they  will  descend  into  a  state  of  unchanging  existence, 
where  it  will  be  found  one  of  the  worst  and  most  agonizing  tor- 
ments, that  they  will  pray,  and  pray  ifi  vain. 

It  is  but  seldom  that  the  revelation  of  the  Word  of  God  draws 
aside  the  curtain  that  conceals  the  habitation  of  lost  spirits  in 
hell ;  but  there  is  one  instance  where  that  curtain  is  drawn  aside, 
not  by  the  hands  of  prophets  or  apostles,  but  by  the  hand  ol 


Written  and  Extempovanj  Sermons.       i  29 

Him  TN'lio  was  the  Master  of  Ijotli ;  and  He  expound.-^,  my  ])retli- 
ern,  the  following  awful  fiict  for  the  warning  and  the  alarm  of 
others.  A  rich  man,  who  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen, 
and  who  fared  sumptuously  every  day,  died,  and  was  buri- 
ed ;  and  in  hell  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  being  in  torment.  He  saw 
Lazarus,  a  beggar  he  had  once  despised,  in  the  l^osom  of  Abra- 
ham, in  the  Paradise  of  God.  He  2)rayed— and  it  was  for  1dm- 
self.  "  Father  Abraham,  I  beseech  thee,  send  Lazarus,  that  he 
may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water,  and  cool  my  tongue ;  for 
I  am  tormented  in  this  flame  :  "  and  the  poor  request  was  denied 
He  prayed  again— and  it  was  for  others.  "  I  pray  thee,  therefore, 
father,  that  thou  wouldest  send  him  to  my  Other's  house,  for  I 
have  five  brethren,  that  he  may  testify  to  them,  lest  they  also 
come  into  this  place  of  torment :  "  They  have  Moses  and  the 
prophets ;  let  them  hear  them."  Nay,  father  Abraham,"— as  if 
rising  to  a  maddening  agony — Nay,  father  Abraham ;  but  if  one 
went  unto  them  from  the  dead,  they  lolll  repent."  "  Verily,  I 
say  unto  thee.  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither 
will  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rise  from  the  dead."  It 
was  denied — and  the  spirit  was  lost  forever.  Ah,  in  this  vast 
assembly,  how  many  are  to  be  found  in  danger  of  encountering 
the  horrors  of  that  world,  of  the  inhabitants  of  which,  it  will 
be  said,  that  they  do  pray  xa. 

My  brethren,  we  have  now  attempted  to  exhibit  to  you  those 
general  principles  to  which  we  have  adverted,  as  legitimately  to 
be  deduced  from  the  statement  of  this  portion  of  the  Word  of 
God.  We  have  reminded  you  that  the  employment  of  prayer  is 
to  be  directed  to  God,  as  its  only  exclusive  object ;  and  that  God 
has  rendered  it  a  matter  of  positive  and  universal  obligation. 
We  have  reminded  you  that  he  is  guilty  of  restraining  prayer 
before  God,  who  altogether  omits  prayer— who  engages  but  sel- 
dom in  prayer — who  excludes  from  supplication  those  matters 
which  are  properly  the  objects  of  prayer— and  who  docs  not 
cherish  the  spirit  of  importunity  in  prayer.  And  we  have  re- 
minded you,  tiiat  the  habit  of  restraining  prayer  before  Ilim, 
cannot  be  indulged  with  impunity,  that  it  prevents  always  the 
enjoyments  of  spiritual  blessings  both  by  ourselves  and  by  oth- 
ers ;  and  that  it  exposes  especially  to  the  judicial  wrath  of  God. 

I  trust,  my  Christian  l)rethren,  to  whom  I  would  address  v.  ^- 


1^0         The  Peroration — James  Parsons. 

self  once  more  in  approiicliing  the  conclusion  of  our  address, 
tliat  the  subject  which  lias  been  dedicated  to  your  welfare,  will 
not  be  offered  to  you  in  vain ;  and  as,  without  exception,  shame 
and  confusion  of  face  belong  to  us,  because,  to  some  extent,  at 
least,  we  have  restrained  prayer  before  God,  that  to-night  we 
will  renew  our  vows,  and  retire  to  our  chambers,  and  there  be- 
seech God,  as  His  best  boon  to  us,  to  pour  upon  us  the  spirit  of 
prayer;  and  resolve,  my  brethren,  in  the  language  of  the  prophet 
that,  "  for  Zion's  sake  we  will  not  hold  our  peace,"  in  prayer— 
that  "  for  Jerusalem's  sake  we  will  not  hold  our  peace,"  in  pray- 
er, "  until  the  righteousness  thereof  go  forth  as  the  brightness, 
and  his  salvation  as  a  lamp  that  burneth."  No  ;  we  will  take 
the  censer  that  contains  the  blood  of  jDropitiation  ;  we  will  draw 
aside  the  veil  that  seioarates  us  from  the  holiest  of  all ;  we  will 
enter  and  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  shekinah,  before  the  burn- 
ing glory  of  Jehovah,  and  there  sprinkling  that  blood  upon  the 
mercj'^-seat,  and  holding  it  before  us  that  we  die  not,  stand  with 
an  unwearied  and  with  an  uufainting  cry,  "  we  icill  not,  ice  inill 
not,  we  will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  us;"  waiting  until, 
from  that  shrine  and  that  pavilion  of  glory,  the  voice  shall  an- 
swer, "  Ye  have  prevailed ;  as  I  live,  the  whole  earth  shall  be 
j&Ued  with  my  glory ;  the  mystery  of  God  which  he  spake  to  His 
prophets,  soon,  soon  shall  be  finished." 

And  yet,  my  hearers,  there  are  many  now  present,  who  have 
no  title  to  the  character  of  Christians,  and  to  whom  I  would 
dedicate  anotlier  word  of  exhortation  before  I  close.  My  hear- 
ers, I  tremble  to  think  that  I  am  now  in  the  presence  of  a  per- 
son who  never  prayed;  a  sinner  born  to  die;  a  sinner  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils  ;  a  sinner  who,  by  one  stroke  of  his 
Judge,  might  be  swept  from  probation  to  eternal  doom.  A  sin- 
ner who  never  jiraycd !  Where  is  he  ?  Is  it  you — is  it  you — is  it 
you,  who  never  prayed  ?  Suppose  you  were  to  stand  forth  ;  what 
a  sight  would  it  be  !  O  sinner,  we  call  upon  you  to  pray  now  ; 
go  to  the  footstool  and  say,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 
Is  it  uttered  f  Then  utter  it  again,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner."  h  it  repeated  ?  Then,  repeat  it  again — God  be  merci- 
ful to  me  a  sinner."  Saints  pray  for  the  ^waying  sinner — "  God 
be  merciful  unto  him  a  sinner."  And  the  voice  of  united  sup- 
plication will  be  hoard  ;  joy  will  bo  folt  in  the  bosoms  of  the  an- 


Written  and  Extemporary  Se}'7)2o?is.       i '?  i 

gels ;  a  greater  tlinn  tlie  angels  Avill  look  down,  as  he  did  upon 
Saul  of  Tarsus,  and  with  the  ecstacy  of  a  satisfied  travail,  will 
exclaim,  "  Behold  he  prayeth ;  "  and  the  sigh  of  that  sinner's 
petition  will  be  heard  ;  that  sinner's  transgressions  phall  be  par- 
doned ;  that  sinner's  pei*son  shall  be  accepted ;  that  sinner's  soul 
shall  be  accepted.  Thus  may  God,  by  His  spirit  descend,  and 
preserve  us  from  the  habit  of  restraining  prayer  before  Ilim. 

Suffer  mo  to  cite  another  instance  of  the  peroration  of 
another  order,  but  equally  impressive,  fi'om  a  gi-eat  master 
of  XDulpit  speech,  James  Stratten — the  close  of  a  sermon 
from  the  text,  "Hold  fast  till  I  come." 

I  confess  myself  to  be  filled  often  with  delight  and  joy,  when 
I  contemplate  aged  excellence,  and  think  of  longevity  in  con- 
nection with  eminent  services  to  the  Church  of  God,  and  great 
devotedness  to  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue  and  religion  among 
men.  Abraham  died  "  old,  and  full  of  years ; "  rijDc  in  faith, 
mellow  in  his  principles,  perfectly  prepared  to  awake  up  in 
righteousness,  and  to  behold  God's  face  in  heaven.  Jacob  said, 
*'  I  have  waited  for  Thy  salvation,  O  Lord,"  amid  the  infirmities 
and  w^eakness  which  belonged  to  his  condition.  Moses  "  was 
a  hundred  and  twenty  years  old  when  he  died ;  his  eye  was  not 
dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abated ;  "  God  came  and  took  him, 
as  a  tree,  with  all  its  clusters  hanging  ripe,  copious,  luscious, 
beautiful,  abundant,  transplanted  at  once,  as  by  a  stroke  or  by  a 
miracle,  to  the  celestial  Paradise.  Then  comes  Caleb  ?  *'  Lo,  I 
am  this  day,  fourscore  and  five  years  old,"  he  says,  "  and  I  am 
as  strong  as  I  was  in  the  day  that  Moses  sent  me  ;  "  '*  I  am  com- 
petent to  go  out  to  war ;  I  can  do  valiantly  for  God  and  for 
His  truth  now,  as  I  did  in  the  days  of  my  youth."  Then  there 
is  Barzillai,  not  so  bold,  not  so  champion-like  :  "  I  am,  this  day 
fourscore  years  old  ;  and  can  thy  servant  taste  what  I  eat  or  what 
I  drink  ?  can  I  hear  any  more  the  voice  of  singing-men  and 
singing-women?"  "the  acuteness  of  my  senses  is  departed 
from  me  ;  all  that  I  want  is  to  go  down  to  my  grave  in  peace, 
and  to  be  buried  in  the  sepulchre  of  my  fathers,  by  the  grave  of 
my  father  and  of  my  mother" — of  course,  connecting  his  burial 
as  it  respects  Ilis  body,  with  the  peace  and  rest  of  his  soul  in 


132 


'JTlie  Peroration — James  Stratten. 


Abraham's  bosom.  Then  Simeon ;  "  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou 
Thy  servant  dei)art  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  salva- 
tion." Last,  not  least — in  some  resijects  gTeatest  among  those 
whom  we  have  named — is  the  Inspired  writer  of  this  book — 
John — the  beloved  apostle.  Ninety,  as  it  is  supposed,  now  that 
in  Patraos  he  received  "  visions  and  revelations  of  the  Lord  ;  " 
living  to  lie  a  hundred ;  and,  in  his  righteousness,  steadfastness, 
perseverance,  in  the  depth  of  his  love,  and  tlie  transparency  of 
his  knowledge,  and  the  confidence  of  his  faith,  ripening,  to  rest 
again  a  second  time  with  Peter  and  with  James,  and  not  transi- 
ently, for  half  an  hour,  but  to  rest  for  eternity,  on  the  bosom  of 
his  Lord.  Oh  !  let  these  examples  help  us.  Hold  fast  that  which 
you  have,  until  He  shall  come  ;  "  let  no  man  take  your  crown." 

"  Till  I  comer 

Then  Ckrid  will  come.  He  "  will  come  in  His  own  and  His 
Father's  glory,  come  in  like  manner  as  He  was  seen  going  away ; 
come  upon  His  great  white  throne,"  And  it  amounts  to  the 
same  thing,  whether  we  regard  this  coming  as  at  o?n' final  day. 
or  at  nis  final  day ;  for  as  we  are  found,  in  our  moral  and  spir- 
itual condition,  at  our  final  day,  when  we  die,  so  shall  we  be 
found  at  His  final  day,  w-hen  He  shall  make  His  t^ei-sonal  appear- 
ance among  us  again. 

lie  will  come  certainly.  As  surely  as  I  am  here  and  have 
spoken  these  words,  as  sure  as  this  Book  is  upon  this  sacred 
desk,  as  sure  as  you  are  listening  to  the  voice  and  do  behold  the 
countenance  of  a  fellow-man,  so  surely  shall  you  hear  the  voice 
of  the  trumpet  of  the  great  archangel,  and  see  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

lie  will  come^  and  then  will  be  revelation  and  disclosure  of  ev- 
ery man's  state.  Our  words  and  jDrinciples  will  be  tried,  "  so  as 
by  fire."  All  books  will  be  opened,  the  Book  of  God's  remem- 
brance, the  Book  of  God's  inspiration,  the  book  of  man's  mem- 
ory, the  book  of  man's  conscience.  Clearest,  intensest  light  will 
be  shed  upon  all,  in  order  to  the  revelation  and  discovery  of 
what  we  really  are.  And  then  will  come  the  verdict,  sentence, 
and  destination,  according  to  every  man's  condition. 

Have  we  obtained  nothing  ?  Is  there  no  oil  in  the  lamp  at  all  ? 
Has  there  never  been  any  ? — mercy  not  sought,  grace  not  applied 


Written  and  Exteinporary  F^ermonR.       \  o  n 

for,  God  not  known,  Christ  not  believed  in,  experience  of  the 
power  of  religion  upon  the  heart  never  realized  {  No  oil  ?  No 
entrance  then,  "  The  door  Avill  be  shut  and  they  who  have  no  oil 
in  their  lamps  will  be  shut  out." 

Is  there  oil?  Have  ice  ohUclned  mercy? — sought  for  grace, 
got  the  pardon,  in  possession  of  the  righteousness  and  sanctili- 
cation?  Is  there  oil  in  the  lamp  ?  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom 
Cometh,  go  ye  out  to  meet  Ilim.-'  Tlie  lamp  burns  ;  the  light  i.s 
])right.     Go  ye  in. 

Not  ready ^  "  that  wicked  servant  "  not  ready  ;  "  smiting  his 
fellow-sei-vants,  eating  and  drinking  with  the  drunken."  Tlio 
Lord  comes,  "cuts  him  asunder,  and  aj^points  him  his  portion 
with  the  hypocrites."  Ready  ;  loins  girt,  lights  burning.  ''  Bless- 
ed is  that  servant;  "  the  Lord  Himself  "  will  gird  Himself,  and 
come  forth  "  and  wait  upon  those  servants — wdll  minister  to 
their  joy,  Avill  replenish  them  with  satisfaction,  will  lift  up  their 
heads  in  everlasting  honor. 

Then  "  hold  fast,  until  I  coined 

I  have  intimated,  that  some  have  nothing.  Is  there  any  one  of 
you  that  has  nothing — that  never  thought  about  it,  never  prayed 
about  it,  never  read  the  Scriptures  for  the  purpose  ?  "  Now  is 
the  accepted  time  ;  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  You  may  gain 
the  blessing.  If  you  have  never  prayed  before  will  you  not 
pray  now?  Will  j^ou  not  turn  to  God  to-night  ?  "Will  3-ou  not 
seek  mercy  ?  Will  you  not  examine  this  matter  of  the  method 
in  which  a  sinner  is  to  be  saved  ?  Will  you  not  say,  "  I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  Father  ?  Arise  and  go.  Take  the  first  step  ; 
gain  the  first  blessing — the  absolution  and  remission  of  your 
sins ;  and  all  the  rest  may  follow  in  its  train. 

And  if  you  hare  the  thing,  do  not  even  look  back.  "Re- 
member Lot's  wife.  No  man  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough 
and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God."  Very  mem- 
orable are  the  words  of  Christ  in  tw^o  places,  respecting  those 
who  depart  and  decline.  The  salt  that  has  lost  its  savor,  is  "  good 
for  nothing,"  not  even  for  the  dunghill ;  only  to  be  "cast  out 
and  trodden  under  foot  of  men."  The  Iranch  hrol-en  off  from 
the  vine,  is  utterly  and  absolutely  worthless  ;  "  withered  ;  "  to  be 
"  gathered  and  cast  into  the  fire  and  burned."     Ifohl  fast.     Say 


i  <?  A  A  rtlficial  Eloquence. 

with  Paul,  *•  I  have  not  already  attained,  but  I  press  on  ;"  and 
you  shall  say  with  him  at  last — "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  T 
liave  finished  my  course,"  I  have  attained  unto  perfection. 

"  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear,"  these  plain,  but 
most  momentous  things,  which  "  the  Spirit  saith  unt6  the 
Churches."  And  "  now  unto  Him  that  is  able  to  keep  us  from 
falling,  and  to  present  us  faultless  before  the  presence  of  His 
glory  with  exceeding  joy  ;  to  the  only  wise  God  our  Saviour, 
])e  glory  and  majesty,  dominion  and  power  both  now  and  ever. 
Amen." 

These  illustrations,  if  wanting  in  that  perfection  of  art 
which  rhetoricians  are  fond  of  commending,  are  models  of 
earnestness  and  intensity,  aiming  at  usefulness  in  the  last 
word  or  stroke  of  speech. 

Methods,  such  as  I  have  quoted,  such  as  pressing  home 
personally  spiritual  truth  upon  the  conscience,  seem  to  me 
f  jr  more  in  harmony  with  the  intention  and  work  of  the 
Christian  ministry,  than  the  artificial  corruscations  and 
flames  of  genius  so  often  admired.  Take  for  an  instance 
the  following  from  a  sermon  preached  by  William  Johnson 
Fox,  whose  eloquence  indeed,  simply  regarded  as  eloquence, 
was  of  the  highest  order  :  he  was  educated  for  the  Inde- 
pendent Ministry,  left  that  for  the  Unitarian,  and  exercised 
his  latest  powers  in  the  House  of  Commons  :  the  sermon 
from  which  the  following  is  an  extract  was  preached  in  1819. 

THE   GREATNESS  OF  ENGLAND  INDEPENDENT  OF  STATE  CHURCHES. 

To  conclude  :  designing  men,  even  in  the  present  day,  have 
dared  to  represent  dissent  from  the  church  as  synonymous  wdth 
disaffection  to  the  State.  It  is  a  foul  calumny.  The  sternest 
and  sturdiest  protest  against  the  one  may  co-exist  wiih  the  most 
enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  other.  England  was  great  and 
glorious  w^hile  her  religion  was  Popery.  She  tlien  reared  her 
head  above  the  nations,  oustripped  them  all  in  the  career  of  im- 
provement, and  soared  above  them  towards  the  heaven  of  liber- 
ty. The  great  charter  of  her  freedom  was  then  wrested  from 
unwilling  pov/er  ;  commerce  and  manufactures  were  raising  her 


Written  and  Extemporary  Sermons.       i  35 

citizens,  burgesses,  and  merchants  to  wealth  and  intelligence, 
and  placing  them  side  by  side  with  her  barons  ;  while  from  con- 
tending elements  arose  the  harmony  of  representative  govern- 
ment. She  was  great  while  that  change  called  Reformation  was 
proceeding,  or  retarded,  or  subsiding  into  fixedness,  through 
successive  reigns.  She  then  began  to  wave  her  flag  of  sover- 
eignty over  the  sea  ;  her  laws  were  framed  in  wisdom  ;  and  her 
literature,  splendid  in  genius,  profound  in  learning,  and  mighty 
in  originality,  advanced  with  a  giant  step.  She  icas  (jreat  at  that 
tremendous  period  when  the  crown  was  trampled  in  the  dust,  a 
regal  head  fell  on  the  scaffold,  and  Cromwell  sat  on  an  ungarn- 
ished  throne.  Episcopacy  was  not  the  religion  then.  The 
Church  of  England  fled  to  the  wilderness  ;  the  mitre  was  crush- 
ed under  sectarian  feet,  and  the  crosier  snapped  asunder  by  un- 
consecrated  hands  :  yet  then  she  teas  great ;  not  a  nation  but 
cringed  for  her  friendship,  and  trembled  at  her  frown.  Was 
there  persecution,  oppression,  or  insult  on  the  continent  ?— she 
lifted  her  voice  of  thunder,  and  Europe's  hills  were  moved ;  her 
mountains  quaked  and  trembled  to  their  foundations.  And 
while  Episcopacy  has  been  Church-of-Englandism,  our  country 
has  been  great  and  glorious  still;— ?/^«,  through  vicissitude, 
great ;  in  adversity  and  disappointment,  in  privation  and  sufler- 
ing,  in  all  changes  and  chances,  in  arms  and  arts,  in  literature 
and  benevolence.  The  monuments  of  her  majesty  reflect  the 
o-littering  of  every  star  of  heaven ;  and  not  a  wind  can  blow 
that  has"^  not  wafted  from  her  shores  some  freight  of  charity. 
And  she  would  be  great,  were  this  assuming  sect  lost  in  oblivion 
with  all  its  robes  and  forms,  and  wealth  and  creeds  ;  still  to  her 
would  the  nations  look  as  to  an  elder  sister  of  the  earth,  pre- 
eminent in  wisdom,  grace,  and  majesty. 

Yes  ;  England,  independently  of  adventitious  circumstances 
or  predominant  sects,  must  be  admired  and  loved  by  all  who  can 
rightly  think  and  feel ;  nor  would  the  hand  that  might  not  ob- 
ject to  pull  down  the  clustering  ivy  from  the  oak,  whose  strength 
it  wasted,  and  whose  beauty  it  impaired,  touch  profanely  one 
leaf  of  the  hallowed  tree.  Oh,  my  country  !  land  of  my  birth,^ 
ray  love,  and  my  pride:  land  of  freedom  and  of  glory  ;  land  of 
Ijards  and  heroes,  of  statesmen,  philosophers  and  patriots  ;  land 
of  Alfred  and  of  Sydney,  of  Hampden  and  of  Uussell,  of  New- 


I  06  Artificial  Eloquence. 


ton,  Locke,  and  Milton;  may  thy  security,  liberty,  generosity, 
peace,  and  pre-eminence  be  eternal !  May  thy  children  prize 
tlieir  birthrig-ht,  and  well  guard  and  extend  their  privileges ! 
From  the  annals  of  thy  renown,  the  deeds  of  thy  worthies,  the 
precious  volumes  of  thy  sages,  may  they  imbibe  the  love  of  free- 
dom, of  virtue,  of  their  country  I  May  the  pure  Gospel  be  their 
portion  !  Through  every  future  age  may  they  arise,  as  of  yore, 
the  protectors  of  the  oppressed,  the  terror  of  tyrants,  the  guard- 
ians of  the  rights  and  peace  of  nations,  the  champions  of  civil 
and  religious  liberty;  and  may  they  be  the  posscssors^^jid  diffus- 
ers  of  genuine  Christianity  to  all  countries,  through  all  genera- 
tions !   Amen. 

This  is  a  magnificent  passage,  and  such  passages,  no 
doubt,  in  their  delivery,  have  a  splendid  effect  upon  culti- 
vated minds,  and  the  glowing  language  of  perfectly  form- 
ed sentences,  elegant  and  eloquent,  assisted  by  the  gi'aces 
of  manner,  often,  as  in  the  case  of  the  orator  I  have  quot- 
ed, overcoming  and  rising  matchlessly  triumphant  over 
what  might  seem  insuperable  physical  defects,  moves  an 
audience  to  noble  excitements  of  feeling ;  but  I  should  not 
desire  to  see  even  many  Robert  Halls  in  the  pulpit.  It 
is  not  in  the  pulpit  we  are  to  expect  or  to  aim  after  those 
triumphs  of  style  which  charm  in  the  pages  of  Macaulay  ; 
the  poHshed  period,  the  labored  antithesis,  the  startling 
paradox,  are  out  of  place  there,  where  "not  many  wise, 
not  many  gi'eat,  not  many  noble,"  can  be  among  the  num- 
ber of  the  called  ;  there  the  weak  things  of  the  world  are 
to  confound,  as  of  old,  the  things  of  the  wise  and  the 
mighty  ;  still,  as  of  old,  it  is  tnie,  "  W^ere  is  the  wise  ? 
where  is  the  scribe  ?  where  is  the  disputer  of  this  world  ;  '* 
still,  as  of  old,  "  The  world,  by  its  wisdom,  knows  not  God  ;" 
and  still,  "  it  pleases  God,  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching  " 
(which  need  not,  however,  be  foolish  preaching)  "  to  save 
them  that  believe." 


Pulpit   Monographs. 
II. — Pusey,  Manning  and  Newman. 


HE  Chiu'ch  of  England  has  been  more  remark- 
able in  the  history  of  the  literature  of  the  pul- 
pit, for  the  introduction  of  sermons  suitable  for 
the  study  and  the  oratory  than  the  chui'ch. 
This  must  be  very  gi-eatly  the  case  when  sermons  are 
prepared  by  thoroughly  educated  men,  vvho  are  more 
interested  in  i)erceiving  and  followmg  out  for  their 
OAvn  edification  the  thoughts  m  their  own  mind,  than  in 
reducmg  them  to  the  level  of  the  attainments  of  a  pop- 
ular audience.  The  sermons  of  the  illustrious  Barrow 
were  confessedly  not  intended  for  deliveiy,  and  when  he 
appeared  in  the  pulpit  he  was  always  tedious,  and  his 
noble  and  magnificent  productions  would  not  be  hsteued 
to  now,  not  merely  with  edification  or  patience,  they 
would  not  be  listened  to  at  all.  The  aame  remark  applies 
in  a  less,  but  equally  certain,  degree  to  the  sermons  of 
South  and  Taylor,  and  to  those  of  John  Howe  and  Chai^ 
nock.  We  ridicule,  and  are  angry  with  sensational  preach- 
ing, but  some  measure  of  hglit  and  fancy  and  appropriate 
condensation  and  difiusion  in  style  is  necessary  for  all 
large  and  popular  audiences  ;  this  is  the  ai't  of  prcaching. 
The  elaborate  and  well-uiformed  essay,  the  scholastic  dis- 


1 3  8      Select  Sermons  for  Select  A  udiences. 

sertation,  are  unfitted  for  public  and  ordinaiy  service  and 
worship ;  so  also  for  the  most  part  are  those  productions 
in  which  the  man  of  extraordinary  powers  of  subtilty,  in- 
sight,   thought,    and    even   felicity   of    expression,   utters 
ti-uths  far  beyond  the  possible  attainment  of  the  ordinary- 
mind.     Our  Lord  could,  indeed,  combine  the  very  different 
methods  of  speech  contained  in  the  seventeenth  chapter 
of  Luke,  and  the  fourteenth  chajoter  of  John  ;   but  they 
were  dehvered  in  very  different  circumstances,  and  to  very- 
different  audiences.     Some  men  can  attempt  to  follow  the 
teaching  of  the  Lord  in  one  who  cannot  at  all  use  or  fol- 
low Him  in  the  other.     Ai^e  those  more  select  sermons, 
then,  which  only  found  a  veiy  small  and  select  audience  in 
their  delivery,  to  be  cast  aside  ?    Certainly  not ;  these  may 
3'et  inform  the  ministers  how  to  preach  ;  he  needs  their 
instruction,  and  the  humbler  man  may  use  and  make  more 
general  their  power  of  insight — their  illustration  and  even 
their  methods.    Nor  ought  it  to  be  forgotten  that  attention 
is  needed  for  all  real  and  great  teaching  ;  without  this, 
vain  is  the  power  of  any  teacher ;  he,  indeed,  should  lend 
himself  hi  the  most  easy  and  happy  manner  to  convey,  but 
not  the  less  should  the  hearer  strive  to  receive.     For  the 
want  of  this,  quite  as  much  as  for  the  want  of  aptitude  in 
the  ministry,  it  is  that  hearers  cry  for  tropes  and  figures, 
glowing  language  and  pathetic  addresses.     "  "Why  do  not 
our  ministers,"  i^eople  say,  "preach  like  the  great  divines 
of  the  French  nation,  and  why  do  not  they  manifest  the 
life  and  pathos  of  a  Whitefield  ?"     Alas !  they  have  prob- 
ably to  preach  to  the  same  people  about  one  hundi-ed  and 
fifty  sermons  every  year,  the  great  sermons  to  which  they 
allude  were  delivered  on  great  occasions  after  immense 
study  and  preparation — or  they  had  been  delivered  many 
times  by  men  like  Whitefield,  who  a^Dpeared  for  a  day,  for 
a  few  weeks,  and  were  gone  ;  the  animated  style  of  elo- 
quence is  a  luxury — and  its  elegancies  and  artifices  cannot 


Pulpit  Ponographs :  rusey,  etc.  \nQ 

grow  on  every  tree — but  there  is  that  which  is  better  than 
all  this — that  moderate  but  yet  more  liviu^-  warmth,  which 
assists  the  whole  life  to  hve,  which  will  bear  pondermg, 
and  which  may  be  tui'ned  to  agaiu  and  again.  Dissent- 
ing congi-egations  have  been  too  neglectful  and  too  hnpa- 
tient  of  this  ;  it  is  painful  to  think  that  the  orator  is  most 
heard  and  more  esteemed,  and  we  lay  our  hands  on  innu- 
merable volumes  of  sermons,  many  of  them  posthumous — 
most  of  them  unknown,  cleai',  and  light-bringing,  but  their 
authors  either  had  not  condescended,  or  could  not  con- 
descend to  the  popular  method  ;  and  therefore,  they  hved 
without  reputation  beyond  the  naiTow  existence,  and  if 
dead  it  may  be  said,  "  the  place  of  their  sepulchre  knoweth 
no  man." 

There  are  three  living  preachers  whose  names  are  not 
known  much,  nor  loved  much  in  those  cu'cles  in  which 
excellence  is  estimated  by  the  ovations  of  noise  which  gi'eet 
it,  and  persuade  it  to  believe  that  passions  and  tumults 
and  notoriety  are  fame  ;  but  to  those  who  test  the  value 
of  praise  by  the  depth  and  tenderness  of  its  accent  rather 
than  the  tumultuousness  of  its  expression,  the  sermons  of 
Dr.  Pusey,  and  of  Dr.  John  Hemy  Newman,  and  of  Dr. 
Manning,  will  seem  among  the  most  beautif  id  which  have 
at  any  time  been  delivered  horn,  the  joulpit.  They,  none 
of  them,  read  to  me  like  productions  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  Pusey's,  especially,  have  the  quaint  sweetness 
and  fervor  of  an  old  cloistered  monk  of  the  medieval  ages. 
The  greatest  of  these  three  modern  models  of  sacred  and 
gifted  speech  is  John  Henry  Newman  ;  his  genius,  while 
the  most  subtle  hi  its  insight,  and  gifted  with  those  views 
of  truth  which,  in  their  mystical  charm,  are  hke  revealing 
lamps  shining  on  landing-places,  higher  than  those  usually 
attamed  in  the  turrets  of  thought  and  knowledge,  or  like 
the  rich  light  in  the  west,  bringing  out  into  plain  and  chs- 
tinctive  outline  tlie  countiy  beyond,  ^\\i\\  aU  its  far-stretch- 


140      Styles  of  the  Three  Discriminated. 

ing  region  of  hill  or  moorland,  wliile  yet  the  eye  cannot 
discover  the  paths  and  roads,  wliile  it  plainly  discovers  the 
afiSmiation  of  the  infinite  country  l}ang  there.  Dr.  Pusey's 
tenderness  and  pathos  of  expression  are  gi-eat,  and  his 
language  has  more  of  the  measured  march  of  that  studied 
expression  which  seems  like  the  gift  of  oratory  and 
rhetoric.  Yet  the  sermons  of  Pusey,  while  read  slowly, 
and  firmty,  and  feelingty,  pour  along  a  stream  of  medita- 
tion, they  read  as  though  rather  fitted  for-the  oratory  than 
the  pulpit ;  his  sermons  are  bathed  in  the  past,  and  fonned 
in  the  language  of  the  past  ;  they  ma}'  arrest  and  hold, 
but  it  is  as  if  some  monk  moved  us  at  his  devotions,  a  real 
and  pensive  power  subdues  us  ;  but  it  is  a  power  out  of 
the  past  rather  than  the  present ;  and  the  words  are 
quiet,  and  seize  us  as  when  we  read  pages  of  the  Fathers 
to  whom  in  theii-  cloistered  serenity  the  world  was  a  thing 
lost  sight  of  and  forgotten.  "\^Tiile  Manning,  again,  has  a 
st^'le  more  sharp  and  clear  and  incisive  than  either,  there 
is  more  orderly  speech  ;  language  and  ideas  run  more 
evenly  in  the  grooves  of  dogma  and  of  settled  faith.  A 
soft  but  steady  light,  like  that  winch  the  fine  summer  sun 
leaves  behind  him  over  distant  scenes,  when  he  has  set,  is 
shed  from  Newman's  magical  pages.  The  light  which  as 
certainly  shines  in  Manning's  sermons  is  rather  the  light 
of  a  flash,  arresting  while  abiding,  and  never  mu'elated 
to  something  of  terror  and  awe.  All  these  sermons  are  of 
the  order,  only  to  be  ai^preciated  by  persons  of  cultm-e — I 
do  not  mean  the  culture  of  the  mind,  the  information  of 
philology,  and  grammars,  and  histories,  and  sciences — but 
that  other  and  profounder  culture  which  it  seems  impos- 
sible for  the  tradesman  intelligence  ever  to  attain,  which  is 
scarcely  compatible  with  a  life  in  the  ofiice  and  the  shop, 
with  a  life  in  which  the  mind  must  be  occupied  with  the 
httle  selfishnesses,  and  fortune-makings,  and  interested 
aims  of  men  of  bustle  and  intrigue  ;  they  speak  to  ^  the 


Pulpit  Moiiographs :  Fusey^  etc.         1 4 1 

state  in  which  the  mind  and  heart  are  perpetually  proving 
themselves,  and  asking  questions  of  themselves  ;  or,  per- 
haps, those  natm-es  who,  havmg  done  this— natures,  in 
wliich  the  hard  doubts  have  been  washed  down  by  the 
rains  of  gi-ief  and  tears  mto  an  alluvial  and  fniitfid  soil  for 
the  soul — are  prepared  to  find  the  teacher  and  to  receive 
his  instructions  through  whom  they  may  understand  some- 
thing of  the  mysteiy  of  a  past  experience,  and  make  it 
the  garden  and  the  vintage  of  the  soul  :  for  we  seldom  can 
imderstand  our  own  grief  .while  we  stand  beneath  the 
shadow  of  it ;  but  autumn  harvests  and  vintages  explain 
the  gales  and  storms,  the  snows  and  dark  nights  of  win- 
ter. An  intense,  but  not,  I  think,  uncheerful  gi'a\dty 
peiwades  the  teaching  of  all  these  men.  Seriousness! 
why,  many  preachers  are  serious  ;  but  there  is  a  serious- 
ness of  deportment,  and  their  is  a  seriousness  of  life, 
there  is  the  seriousness  of  decorum  and  decency,  hke 
moiuTiing  weeds  and  slow  steps  assumed  for  the  occasion, 
and  taught  by  art  and  by  rule  ;  and  there  is  seriousness 
which  sheds  itself  habitually  over  the  face,  real  and  not 
sentimental  depth  of  expression,  derived  from  the  per- 
petual residence  of  the  spirit  in  the  neighborhood  of 
visionary  or  intro-visionary  scenes. 

I  do  not  think  Pusey  indeed  reaches  this  depth  of  feel- 
ing ;  his  words  read  to  me  hke  those  of  a  man  who  has 
settled  his  faith  and  convictions,  and  takes  ideas  and  ex- 
pressions rather  as  they  come.  He  is  neither  an  Augus- 
tine nor  a  Gregoiy,  nor  Epkrem  S^tus.  I  cannot  get 
away  from  my  first  impression,  he  is  a  monk  ;  and  of 
these  neither  a  Dominican,  nor  a  Franciscan,  nor  a  Car- 
thusian, a  good  plain  monk.  iUl  his  lessons  and  his  lore 
are  of  the  monastery  ;  Scripture  and  the  Fathers  are 
quite  sufiicient  for  him,  without  the  lore  of  souls  ;  no 
raptui-es  overtake  him,  no  metaj^hysics  chsturb  him.  His 
language  is  indeed  more  ardent  than  either  of  those  I 


142  The  Sermons  of  Pusey, 

have  mentioned  with  hiin,  but  it  does  not  move  so  much, 
the  light  has  more  of  the  rich  glow  of  church  windows, 
when  on  fire  beneath  the  dying  sun  they  pour  their  pris- 
matic hues  with  innumerable  stains  and  splendid  dyes, 
and  dim  cmblazonings  over  the  carven  imageries,  and  the 
twilight  saints  and  splendid  scutcheons ;  this,  or  tall 
tapers  in  the  lonely  church  ;  not  that  his  style,  any  more 
than  Newman's  or  Manning's,  glows  or  pants  with  poetry 
or  illustration.  There  is  scarce  an  image  or  an  expression 
that  would  be  claimed  by  poetry  in  the  ordinary  and  more 
vulgar  conception  of  poetry  in  either  of  the  writers  ;  they 
produce  the  effects  of  poetry  without  its  rhythm  and  its 
imagery  ;  but  Pusey  uses  a  more  sensational  appeal,  and, 
perhaps  unconsciously  to  himself,  he  is  more  artificial, 
simple  ;  and  yet  like  some  Thomas  a  Kempis  of  our  times, 
he  indulges  in  that  close  and  affectionate  colloquy  with 
souls,  in  which  the  soul  must  be  very  much  subdued  to 
listen,  and  must  hush  its  breath  while  the  stream  of  speech 
flows  on.     Here  is  such  a  passage  on — 

LIFE    CONSIDERED    AS   A   WAKFARE. 

But  docs  the  whole  strife  seem  to  you  long  and  weary  ?  Look 
to  eternity.  It  is  notliiug  to  look  on  to  endless  time.  Time  is 
no  measure  for  eternity.  For  when  eternity  comes,  time  will  no 
longer  be.  Yet  even  thus,  look  on  to  eternity.  Look  on  to  it,  if 
but  as  countless,  endless  time,  no  nearer  to  any  end,  when  thous- 
ands of  thousands  of  years  such  as  we  now  count  them,  yea,  if 
each  of  these  thousands  of  thousands  of  years  were  told  over  as 
often  as  there  are  grains  of  the  dust  of  the  earth  or  sand  on  the 
sea-shore,  shall  have  rolled  by,  still  thou  must  begin  again,  and 
again,  and  again,  and  when  time  and  thought  have  failed  thee, 
thou  art  still  no  nearer.  And  then  say,  what  is  the  longest  life 
on  earth  ?  Shrivelled  into  nothing.  In  the  presence  of  eternity, 
or  of  that  countless  time,  not  thy  life  only,  but  the  whole  being 
of  this  world  is  as  nothing.  But  look  on  again  in  that  eternity. 
I  ask  not  where  God  hath  said,  Thou  shalt  be  ;  but,  What  shalt 
tliou  be  ?       Unchangeable    :'S   the  unchangeableness    of    God, 


Pid2)tt  Mo7iograplis:  Pusey^etc.         143 

what  thou  hast  become  in  this  world  good  or  bad  ?  And  where, 
then,  is  this  weary  strife  which  now  seems  to  thee  so  h-)n<r, 
so  hard,  so  unendurable  ?  Shrivelled  up  into  nothing,  past  and 
gone.  And  what  is  there  besides  ?  One  unchanging,  un- 
changeable state.  In  all  eternity,  thou  wilt  bo  one  and  the 
same,  even  as  God  Himself  is  One  and  the  Same.  Here  we 
may  ever  hope  for  change.  We  hope  ever  to  be  other,  better, 
than  we  are.  But  change,  growth,  amendment,  enlargement  of 
the  heart,  is  here  alone.  Jlicre  our  state  is  fixed.  It  is  an  awful 
thing  in  itself  to  think  of  our  state  being  fixed  :  of  all  power 
of  amending  it,  by  God's  grace,  being  gone.  Who  of  us  could 
endure  the  thought  of  being  in  all  eternity  what  they  are  now, 
of  having  no  more  power  to  love  than  they  have  now  ?  But 
think  for  one  moment  what  that  unchangeable  eternity  would 
be  in  woe,  an  eternity  "in  the  fire  which  never  shall  be 
quenched,  where  their  worm  dieth  not,  and  their  fire  is  not 
quenched  !"  And  what  will  it  be  to  you,  my  brethren,  if  ye,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  hold  on  for  this  little  while  ?  ^Vliat  is 
Eternity?  Eternity  to  the  blessed,  is  God's  unchangeable 
love,  shedding  upon  the  countless  hosts  of  Heaven,  Angels  and 
Archangels,  Cherubim  and  Seraphim,  Martyrs,  Prophets,  Patri- 
archs and  the  whole  gloiious  company  of  the  redeemed,  and,  if 
thou  wiliest,  by  His  Grace,  on  thee,  the  fullness  of  His  infinite 
love,  opening  to  them  the  treasures  of  His  infinite  wisdom,  en- 
compassing them  round  and  round  with  His  infinite  bliss,  satis- 
fying their  souls  with  His  infinite  beauty,  and  awakening  in  them 
a  continual  longing  which  shall  ever  be  filled,  never  be  cloyed. 

He  saith  to  thee,  "  All  which  I  have  is  thine,"  thine,  according 
to  thy  power  to  contain  it.  Now  he  bids  thee  with  one  earnest 
strife,  cast  out  of  thyself  what  chokes  thy  heart,  that  thou  canst 
not  contain  everlastingly  His  Love.  He  bids  thee,  by  His  grace, 
enlarge  thy  heart,  that  He  may  fill  thee  more  largely.  All  of 
this  world  will  soon  have  passed  away.  But  God  will  remain, 
and  thou,  whatever  thou  hast  become,  good  or  bad.  Thy  deeds 
now  arc  the  seed-corn  of  eternity.  Each  single  act,  in  each 
several  day,  good  or  bad,  is  a  portion  of  that  seed.  Each  day 
adds  some  fine,  making  thee  more  or  less  like  Him,  more  or  less 
capable  of  His  Love,  fitter  for  greater  or  less  glory,  to  be  nearer 
to  Him,  or  to  be  less  near,  or  to  be  away  from  Ilim  for  ever. 


1 44    Illustrations  of  Dr,  Pusefs  Preaching, 

It  is  the  strife  long  and  hard  ?  Long  and  hard  it  would  be  to 
be  ever  defeated.  But  Christ  shall  lighten  it  for  thee.  lie 
will  bear  it  in  thee  ;  lie  will  bear  thee  over  it,  as  He  will  bear 
thee  over  the  molten  surges  of  this  burning  world.  Christ  will 
go  before  thee,  lie  saith  unto  thee^  '•  Follow  Me,  and  where  I 
am,  there  shall  thou  be  with  Me.  Follow  thou  me."  "Be  of 
good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world."  "  If  Christ  be  for  us, 
who  shall  be  against  us  !"  Safely  mayest  thou  fight,  who  art 
secure  of  victory.  And  thou  art  safe,  if  thou  fight  for  Christ, 
and  with  Christ.  Only  give  not  way.  If  defeated,  be  the 
humbler,  and  rise  again  ;  begin  again,  and  pray  to  persevere. 
If  thou  succeed,  give  "thanks  to  Him  who  givetli  us  the  vic- 
tory, through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  And  He  will,  by  His 
blood,  intercede  for  thee  ;  He  will,  by  His  grace,  fight  in  thee; 
He  will  keep  thee  unto  the  end,  who  himself  crowneth,  and  is 
crowned,  in  all  who  are  faithful  to  His  grace, 

"VA^iat  soul,  being  awakened,  could  listen  unmoved  to 
words  like  these  ?  Yet  even  these,  if  the  preacher  is  more 
interested  in  his  owai  words  than  the  states  of  his  hearers, 
will  fall — as  I  suppose  they  do  fall — very  unimpressive,  for 
it  is  so,  there  may  be,  it  would  seem,  conviction  without 
the  accent  of  conviction,  because  the  tiiith.  is  held  rather 
in  solution  in  the  mind  than  giving  intensity  to  it  Aji- 
other  of  these  passages  is  the  following  : 

THE  chuistian  life. 
Thou  canst  not  have  victory  unless  thou  be  assaulted.  The 
thickening  of  thy  temptations  may  be  the  very  favor  of  God, 
who  permits  Satan  to  try  and  "  sift  thee  like  wheat,"  yet  wills 
that  thou  shouldest  not  fall.  Even  then,  though  fierce  tempta- 
tion should  come  on  thee  in  thy  holiest  moments,  when  thou  art 
most  earnest  in  prayer,  or  after  thou  hast  received  thy  Lord  in 
Holy  Communion,  or  when  thy  will  is  strongest^  thy  soul 
humblest,  thy  love  most  self-forgetful,  fear  not.  leather  thou 
mayest  take  it  as  a  token  of  God's  love,  who  sets  thee  in  con- 
flict. He  ^ill  uphold  thee  by  His  Hand  when  the  waves  arc 
boisterous.  So  shalt  thou  have  the  victory  through  His  Spirit; 
thou  shalt,  in  His  might,  trami)lc  on  the  Evil  One.  the  more  he 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Puseij^  etc,         145 

assaults  thee.  So  slialt  thou  hate  sin  the  more,  the  more  thou 
art  tormented  by  the  sinfulness  of  thy  mortal  nature ;  and  be 
a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  willcth  to  crown  thee, 
and  to  be  croT\Tied  in  thee.  Only  hold  fast  to  Ilim  ;  grasp  Ilis 
Hand  the  tighter,  by  whom  thou  art  held.  He  will  refresh 
thee  when  wearied ;  He  will  meet  thee,  as  the  King  of  Right- 
eousness, and  will  recruit  thee  with  spiritual  Food,  His  Body 
and  Blood ;  He  will  forgive  thy  sins  ;  He  will  heal  thine  infir- 
mities ;  He  will  renew  thy  decays.  He  will  hear  thee  when 
thou  criest ;  He  will  answer  thee  when  thou  praycst ;  He  will 
have  compassion  on  thy  afflictions  ;  He  will  loose  thy  bands  ; 
He  will  uphold  thy  feeble  knees  ;  He  will  make  straight  paths 
for  thy  feet ;  He  Himself,  thy  Redeemer,  will  be  thy  Way  unto 
Himself,  thy  God. 

Resist  the  very  first  motions.  It  is  then  that  thou  art  most  in 
thy  own  power.  Be  not  weary  of  resisting,  although  the  temp- 
tation come  again  and  again.  Be  not  off  thy  guard,  although 
it  go  away  for  a  time  in  order  to  come  again.  Each  such 
resistance  is  an  act  of  obedience  to  God ;  each,  done  by  His 
grace,  draws  down  more  of  His  grace  to  thee ;  in  each,  His 
good  pleasure  will  the  more  rest  upon  thee  ;  by  each,  thou  wilt 
become  more  a  vessel  of  His  grace  and  love,  more  fitted  and 
enlarged  for  His  everlasting  love.  Christ,  who  is  the  Power  of 
God  and  the  Wisdom  of  God,  will  dwell  in  thy  soul,  as  in  His 
own  abode.  He  will  rule  thee,  He  will  teach  thee,  He  will 
speak  with  thee,  He  will  fence  thee  from  the  assaults  of  the 
enemy,  with  the  helmet  of  salvation.  He  will  direct  thy  senses 
within,  He  will  guard  thee  without. 

And  through  all  this  conflict,  the  more  thou  art  tossed  here, 
the  more  thou  wilt  learn  to  long  for  thy  heavenly  home,  the 
home  of  His  rest  and  love.  Thou  shalt  learn  to  long  lo^-ingly 
for  that  day  when  the  remaining  corruption  shall  be  put  ofl\ 
and  this  body  of  sin  have  died  through  the  body's  death,  but 
the  body  itself  shall  be  instinct  with  new  life,  and  conformed 
to  the  glorious  Body  of  thy  Lord.  Death  shall  be  to  thee  the 
gate  of  life,  tho.  end  of  woe  and  conflict,  the  beginning  of 
eternal  refreshment,  the  entrance  into  thine  eternal  dwelling- 
place,  where  thou  shalt  have  all  thou  now  longest  for,  shalt 

SECOND  SERIFS.        7 


1^6  Henry  Edward  Manning. 

rest  in  the  sight  of  God,  joy  in  His  love,  be  enriched  by  His 
imparting  of  Himself.  Thou  shalt  then  see  what  thou  now 
believest ;  thou  shalt  have  what  thou  now  hopest  for  ;  thou  shalt 
attain  to  what  thou  now  canst  not  conceive.  For  thou  shalt  be 
one  spirit  with  God,  united  with  Him,  dwelling  in  Him,  behold- 
ing Him,  encircled  with  His  love,  share  His,  and  what  is  His 
shall  be  thine  for  evermore. 

Pusey's  sermons  are  calls  to  the  soul — voices  earnest 
and  beseecMng,  whdlc  sometimes  they  rise  to  tones  of  rap- 
ture and  of  vision.  But  the  scmions  of  Ma2wing  are  of  a 
much  higher  order  ;  of  theu'  kind,  I  know  not  how  to 
think  there  can  be  higher  sermons  ;  true  they  are  intensely- 
ascetic.  All  three  of  these  preachers  belong  to  the  order  of 
ascetic  teachers,  but  they  are  wonderful  seiTuons,  and  as  we 
tui'n  back  to  the  memories  with  which  we  first  read  them,  and 
as  we  turn  their  pages  again,  it  is  no  figure  of  speech  to 
say,  the  heart  aches  and  the  eyes  ahnost  weep,  to  think 
that  the  author  of  these  extraordinary  meditations  has 
fallen  into  the  hard,  cmel,  intolerant  bigot — the  very  type 
of  an  ancient  Dominican  weavhig  his  words  into  eulogies 
upon  the  Inquisition.  One's  own  heart  trembles  for  its 
steadfastness  and  wonders  what  secret  sin  it  was  that  can 
have  had  power  to  issue  in  such  a  faU  ;  for  he  is  not  merely 
a  Komanist — ^but  a  Romanist  intense  in  hatred  to  England, 
to  Protestantism,  and  to  all  the  interests  of  mind.  Not  so 
in  these  words  and  volumes,  of  which  I  know  not  whether 
to  speak  with  most  admu-ation,  of  the  method  and  conse- 
cutiveness  of  every  xolan,  of  its  grave  sobriety,  of  chastened 
and  yet  richly-cultured  thought,  or  of  the  rich  revealing 
powers  of  genius  and  holy  sanctity  everywhere  evident — 
subdued,  calmed  like  the  words  of  those  to  w-hom  sufieiing 
and  experience  are  very  old  ;  no  strained  expressions,  no 
pomp,  no  glow  of  language,  no  attempt  either  at  any  great 
or  chosen  fitness  of  expression ;  no  passion,  no  ai't,  but 
that  great  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  human  souls  which  no 


Pulpit  MonogmphH :  Pusey^  etc.  \  aj 

metaphysics  can  teach,  and  which  yet  seems  to  be  the  in- 
tention of  the  teaching  of  all  metaphysics.     There  is  no 
attempt  to  imtwist — to  untie,  or  to  cut  the  knot  of  life  and 
its  mystery  ;  there  is  no  nientid  revolt  as  in  Robertson  ; 
there  is  only  the  patient  submission  of  the  will  and  the 
thought  to  that  which  is.     The  truths,  too,  taught  have 
no  light  of  novelty  in  theii-  setting  ;  they  are  old,  Ijut  their 
presentation  calls  up  a  chain  of  associated  impressions  and 
reflected  lights.     All  these  preachers,  and  Mannmg  in  a 
veiy  distinct  manner,  are  reverently  Scriptural ;  they  press 
everywhere  the  seiTice  of  texts  and  illustrations  to  sustain 
and  support  all  their  thoughts.     They  hold  up  the  text  and 
seem  to  say,  "  I  stand  still  and  watch  what  the  hght  will 
reveal ! "  and  here  seem  to  be  no  rhetorical  arts.     If  they 
were  used  they  are  all  out  of  sight  ;  no  impassioned  pro- 
sopopoeia or  labored  climax  ;  no  pendulous  antithesis  or 
ambitious  character  sketch  ;  so  modest,  yet  so  powerful — 
so   apparently  characterless,   yet  impressivel}'   ahve   with 
character.     As  we  remember   Dr.  Manning  before   these 
sermons  were  preached — full  of  action,  passionate,  glowmg, 
rapid  and  even  vehement — it  is  almost  impossible  to  identify 
in  this  memory,  powerful  as  the  impression  is,  their  deliv- 
ery ;  yet  it  is  again  impossible  to  conceive  them  other  than 
penetrating  ;  but  then  they  depend,  as  we  have  already 
said,  on  their  audience,  and  there  are  lines  and  sentences 
which  arrest  and  strike,  but  they  especially  lose  by  benig 
dislocated  fi'om  their  context ;  as  when  the  sins  of  Chiis- 
tendom,  as  compared  with  the  heathen  world,  are  defined 
as  probably  "  ha\dng  less  that  is  akin  to  the  unreasonable 
creatui-es  of  God,  but  a  nearer  fellowship  -^-ith  Satan  ; "  or, 
when  he  relieves  us  by  sajdng,  ""WTio  can  tell  what  has 
ever  been  the  ineffable  yearnings  of  the  heathen  world — 
what  tumultuous  cries  of  spiritual  sorrow  have  been  heard 
in  the  ears  of  God  ?  "     "  Sin  can  hide  itself  from  the  con- 
science— it  is  most  concealed  at  its  highest  pitch  of  strength. 


1 48  Henry  Edward  Manning, 

It  is  cold  to  us  and  we  suppose  it  cold  in  itself.  Fire  has 
no  heat  to  the  dead — Chi'ist  did  no  mighty  work  among 
the  imbeUeving." 

GRACE,    AND    THE    WILL. 

Such  is  the  mysterious  nature  of  the  human  spirit,  of  its 
affections,  and  will,  such  its  energies  and  intensity,  that  it  may, 
at  any  time,  be  so  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of  the  new  creation,  as 
to  expel  with  the  most  perfect  rejection,  all  the  powers,  qualities, 
visions,  and  thoughts  of  evil.  We  know  so  little  of  spiritual 
natures,  that  we  are  compelled  to  use  metaphors ;  and  often  our 
illustrations  become  our  snares,  and  we  turn  them  into  argu- 
ments, and  reason  from  visible  things  to  the  inscrutable  condi- 
tions of  our  spiritual  being.  For  instance,  we  speak  of  the 
stains  of  sin,  the  soils  of  lust,  the  scars  and  wounds  made  by 
transgression  in  the  soul :  and  it  is  true,  that  what  stains,  soils, 
scars,  wounds,  are  to  the  body,  such  are  lusts,  in  deed,  desire 
and  thought,  to  the  soul.  But  we  cannot  therefore  say  that  the 
spiritual  nature  is  not  susceptible  of  a  healing  and  purgation 
which  is  absolutely  perfect,  to  which  the  cleansing  or  health  of 
the  body  is  no  true  analogy.  For  instance,  the  very  life  of  sin 
is  the  will.  By  sin  it  is  a  corrupt  and  unclean  will ;  by  conver- 
sion it  becomes  cleansed  and  pure.  So  long  as  it  is  here  subjected 
to  the  action  of  the  flesh,  it  is  imperfect ;  but  when  disembodied 
what  shall  hinder  its  being  as  pure  as  if  it  had  never  sinned  ? 
What  is  the  substance  of  the  will  ?  What  is  sin  ?  And  in 
what  does  sin  inhere  but  in  the  inclination  of  the  will  ?  When 
this  is  restored  to  perfect  holiness,  what  effect  of  the  fall  will 
remain  ?  We  are  greatly  ignorant  of  all  these  things  ;  but  it  is 
evident  that,  be  we  what  we  may,  if  our  repentance  and  conver- 
sion be  true,  there  is  no  height  of  sanctification,  no  approxima- 
tion to  the  Divine  Image,  that  we  may  not  make  in  this  world, 
and  in  the  world  to  come  be  made  sinless  in  the  kingdom  of 
God.  And  if  our  spiritual  nature  may  be  made  sinless  in  the 
life  to  come,  how  can  we  limit  its  purification  in  this  world  ? 
IIow  can  we  say  that  it  may  not  be  brought  out  from  the  eflects 
of  any  sin,  or  habit  of  sinning,  as  intensely  and  energetically 
pure  as  if  it  had  never  been  bribed  or  corrupted  by  evil ;  and, 
moreover,  sharpened  with  a  peculiar  abhorrence  of  the  defile- 


Pulpit  Monograi^lis :  P user/,  etc,         149 

mcnt  from  wliicli  it  has  been  delivered  ?  Such  is  the  mysterious 
complexion  of  a  spiritual  nature,  that  it  may,  in  a  moment,  and 
by  an  act  of  volition,  virtually  and  truly  anticipate  an  habitual 
condition  of  the  soul;  as,  for  instance,. in  a  true  death-bed  re- 
pentance there  is  contained  a  life  of  penance  and  purity,  though 
it  be  never  here  developed  into  act.  And  this  may  throw  light 
on  many  questions ;  such  as  the  condition  of  the  heathen,  and 
of  those  that  arc  born  in  separation  from  the  unity  of  the  Church, 
and  on  the  state  of  those  who,  after  ba])tism,  by  falling  into  sin, 
have  resisted  the  grace  of  regeneration.  Of  these  last,  it  would 
appear  that  their  condition  is  changed  for  the  worse,  in  the 
point  of  having  sinned  with  greater  guilt,  and  done  despite  to 
that  which  should  have  been  their  salvation.  By  consent  to  sin, 
they  have  made  the  work  of  repentance  more  difficult  and  doubt- 
ful. The  blood  of  Christ,  and  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
have  yet  the  power  of  a  perfect  healing  and  purification  ;  but 
repentance,  which,  on  their  side,  is  the  condition,  it  is  h^der 
to  fulfil.  Still,  wheresoever  there  are  the  lingering  remains  of 
grace,  or  the  least  beginnings  of  contrition,  there  is  hope  of  a 
perfect  repentance,  and  of  a  perfect  sanctity.  It  seems,  then, 
that  it  was  for  this  reason  that  our  blessed  Lord,  the  sinless 
One,  suffered  publicans,  sinners,  and  even  the  adulteress,  to 
draw  near  to  Ilim  ;  because,  in  them,  under  the  foul  gatherings 
of  sin,  which  spread  like  a  crust  of  leprosy  upon  them,  and  in 
the  darkness  and  death  of  their  inmost  soul.  He  could  see  the 
faint  strength  of  a  living  pulse,  the  dim  spark  of  sorrow,  fear, 
remorse,  and  desire  to  be  redeemed  from  the  bondage  of  the 
devil,  and  therefore  the  susceptibity  of  perfect  holiness,  the 
unextinguished  capacity  of  an  inheritance  with  the  saints  in 
light. 

"  Life  does  not  hang  on  matter,  nor  on  the  organization 
of  matter."  "  It  is  not  as  the  harmony  which  rings  out  of 
a  cunning  instnmient  ;  but  it  is  a  breath— a  s^urit  ;  a  ray 
of  the  eternal  Being — pure,  immaterial,  above  all  grosser 
compoimds  simple  and  indissoluble."  "A  riven  heart  is 
the  best  expositor  of  God's  teaching  about  the  samts 
asleep."  "  Men  are  akeady  half  reconciled  when  they  have 
agreed  to  honor  one  and  the  same  spiritual  hneage."  Such 
4^. 


I  ro  Henry  Edioard  Manning, 

savings,  wliich,  suggestive  and  tender  as  they  are,  look 
cold  when  taken  from  their  connection,  shed  a  softened 
effulgence  tlu'ough  all  these  volumes.  The  grief  of  sin,  the 
giief  of  life,  the  grief  of  thought  thi'ong  hke  solemn-robed 
processions  over  these  pages.  They  aU  weigh  down  with 
the  overwhelming  sense  of  the  intolerable  burden  of  life, 
sin,  and  time.  Life  is  a  purgatoiy  of  dreadful  pain  to  the 
childi'en  of  this  kingdom,  and  beyond  it  are  the  terrible  tor- 
ments of  hell,  and  the  ineffable  beauties  and  splendors  of 
paradise.     The  following  is  beautiful  on  the 

MORAL  AND  SPIRITUAL  POWER  OF  WORK. 

Next  to  prayer  and  a  life  of  devotional  habits,  there  is  nothing 
that  keeps  the  heart  so  pure,  and  the  will  so  strong  and  stead- 
fast, as  a  live  of  active  duty.  This  is  no  doubt  one  peculiar 
blessing  of  those  who  live  hard  and  laborious  lives,  and  accounts, 
in  great  measure,  for  the  singular  simplicity,  straightforward- 
ness, unconsciousness  of  evil,  which  is  to  be  found  among  the 
laboring  poor.  Their  poverty,  and  daily  intentness  of  mind 
upon  the  pure  and  simple  tillage  of  the  earth,  shields  them  from 
a  thousand  assaults  of  evil,  and  a  whole  world  of  dangerous 
thoughts,  schemes,  desires,  and  designs  which  throng  upon  the 
idle  or  unemployed.  Compare  the  open  and  natural  character 
of  a  poor  man  with  the  complex,  suppressed,  inward  mind  of 
those  who  live  in  the  world  with  much  time  at  their  disposal, 
and  little  or  no  laborious  work.  It  is  like  the  transj^arency  of  a 
child  by  the  side  of  a  darkened  and  deteriorated  manhood.  A 
lawful  and  regular  employment,  somewhat  labonous,  and  even 
absorbing  (so  that  it  does  not  estrange  a  man's  mind  from  God), 
is  a  great  security  against  the  temptations  of  the  world  and  of 
our  own  hearts.  It  shuts  out  the  approaches  of  temptations 
without  number  ;  and  keeps  the  mind  in  perfect  ignorance  that 
such  allurements  exist  in  the  world.  It  is  the  want  of  some 
fixed  and  regular  course  of  duty  that  makes  even  good  people 
inconsistent,  vmcertain,  wavering  and  sometimes  hstless,  unwary 
and  infirm.  Unsettled  thoughts,  roving  imaginations,  idle 
fancies,  vacant  hearts,  wandering  eyes,  oj^en  ears,  busy  tongues, 
are  the  inseparable  companions  of  a  man  who  has  little  to  do,  or 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Pnsey^  etc.         \  r  i 

no  rule  and  order  of  daily  employment.  From  all  this,  steady 
labor  would  be  his  protection.  Work  is  the  very  salt  of  our 
fallen  nature,  and  keejDS  it  from  corrupting. 

THE    DEAD. 

O  fearful  death  !  It  has  a  lure  •which  thrills  in  my  soul,  and 
seems  to  draw  me  to  itself;  it  fixes  mo  by  the  fascination  of  its 
eye.  Death  is  coming  towards  me.  I  must  one  day  die,  and 
"  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished  ! ''  Blessed  and 
happy  dead  !  great  mighty  dead  !  In  them  the  work  of  the 
creation  is  well  nigh  accomplished.  What  feebly  stirs  in  us, 
in  them  is  well  nigh  full.  They  have  passed  within  the  veil, 
and  there  remaineth  only  one  more  change  for  them — a  change 
full  of  a  foreseen,  foretasted  bliss.  How  calm,  how  pure,  how 
sainted  are  they  now !  A  few  short  years  ago,  and  they  were 
almost  as  weak  and  poor  as  we :  burdened  with  the  dying  body 
we  now  bear  about ;  harrassed  by  temptations,  often  overcome, 
weeping  in  bitterness  of  soul,  struggling,  with  faithful  though 
fearful  hearts,  towards  that  dark  shadow  from  which  they  shrank 
as  we  shrink  now. 

THE   CmmCH   VISIBLE    AND    INVISIBLE — ONE    PROCESSION. 

Nothing  was  changed  but  the  relation  of  sight ;  like  as  when 
the  head  of  a  far-stretching  procession,  winding  through  a 
broken  hollow  land,  hides  itself  in  some  bending  vale  :  it  is  still 
all  one  ;  all  advancing  together ;  they  that  are  farthest  onward  in 
the  way  are  conscious  of  their  lengthened  following  ;  they  that 
linger  \ni\\  the  last  are  drawn  forward,  as  it  were,  by  the  attrac- 
tion of  the  advancing  multitude.  Even  so  they  knew  themselves 
to  be  ever  moving  on  ;  they  were  ever  pressing  on  beyond  the 
bounds  of  its  material  world.  They  knew  the  life  of 
the  Church  to  be  one,  and  indivisible;  that,  seen  or  unseen, 
there  was  but  one  energy  of  spiritual  being,  in  which  all  wore 
united :  that  all  were  nourished  by  the  same  hidden  manna,  and 
slaked  their  thirst  in  the  same  waters  of  life.  They  were  one 
in  the  personality  of  Christ's  mystical  body  ;  and  all  their  acta 
of  love  and  adoration  were  shared  in  full  by  each  several 
member. 

All  the  siren<Hli  of  Dr.  Maniiiug  is  in  these  voluincs  of 


1 5  2  Jolm  Henry  Newman. 

sermons  ;  perhaps  Dr.  Newinan*s  sermons  are  equally 
strong,  but  all  his  strength  is  not  in  them,  he  has  put  him- 
seK  into  fifty  other  volumes,  extending  over  every  variety' 
of  mental  exploit ;  great  everywhere,  and  in  every^thing 
great,  Vvith  a  Michael  Angelo-like  greatness,  struggling, 
massive,  earnest  hurling  his  books  about  like  thunderbolts. 
Manning  has  none  of  this  power,  his  is  aerial  or  ethereal 
without  being  especially  subtle,  he  makes  his  words  per- 
suasive as  the  air,  sometimes  terrible  as  the  air  ahve  with 
lightnings,  or  am'oras,  or  spectral  armies  fighting  in  the 
clouds.  Newman's  words  are  even  yet  more  quiet,  yet  they 
seem,  hke  w^ondrous  chloroform,  to  penetrate  further,  and 
more  internally  to  possess  the  mind.  To  say  that  John 
Henry  Newivian  is  one  of  the  greatest  Chiistian  sages 
of  oui'  country  in  these  times,  would  only  expose  me  to 
your  suspicions,  and  it  is  only  with  his  sennons  I  have  to 
do  ;  they  are  very  much  in  the  style  of  little  homilies,  and 
yet  every  one  contains  some  great  thesis  ;  these,  in  a  more 
ennnent  sense  than  Dr.  Manning's,  seem  to  me,  amazing 
productions  ;  such  charming  and  venerable  simphcity,  such 
conciseness,  such  a  vivid  perception  of  the  whole  outbranch- 
ing,  such  a  firm  gi*asp  of  the  central  stem.  Thus,  in  the 
introduction  of 

THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST  THE  MEASURE  OF  THE  WORLD. 

Now,  let  me  ask,  what  is  the  real  key,  what  is  the  Christian 
interpretation  of  this  world  ?  What  is  given  us  by  revelation 
to  estimate  and  measure  this  world  by  ?  The  event  of  tliis 
season, — the  crucifixion  of  the  Son  of  God. 

It  is  the  death  of  the  Eternal  Word  of  God,  made  flesh,  which 
is  our  great  lesson  how  to  think  and  how  to  speak  of  this  world. 
His  Cross  has  put  its  due  value  upon  everything  wliicli  we  see, 
upon  all  fortunes,  all  advantages,  all  ranks,  all  dignities,  all 
pleasures  ;  upon  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eyes, 
and  the  pride  of  life.  It  has  set  a  price  upon  the  excitements, 
the  rivalries,  the  hopes,  the  fears,  the  desires,  the  efforts,  the 
triumphs  of  mortal  man.     It  has  given  a  meaning  to  the  various, 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Puscy^  etc.         153 

shifting  course,  the  trials,  the  temptations,  the  sufferings,  of  his 
earthly  state.  It  has  brought  together  and  made  consistent  all 
that  seemed  discordant  and  aimless.  It  has  taught  us  how  to 
live,  how  to  use  this  world,  wdiat  to  expect,  what  to  desire,  what 
to  hope.  It  is  the  tone  into  which  all  the  strains  of  this  world's 
music  are  ultimately  to  l)e  resolved. 

Look  around,  and  see  what  the  world  presents  of  high  and 
low.  Go  to  the  court  of  princes.  See  the  treasure  and  skill  of 
all  nations  brought  together  to  honor  a  child  of  man.  Observe 
the  prostration  of  the  many  before  the  few.  Consider  the  form 
and  ceremonial,  the  pomp,  the  state,  the  circumstance,  the  vain- 
glory. Do  you  wish  to  know  the  worth  of  it  all  ?  look  at  the 
Cross  of  Christ. 

Go  to  the  political  world  :  see  nation  jealous  of  nation,  trade 
rivalling  trade,  armies  and  fleets  matched  against  each  other. 
Survey  the  various  ranks  of  the  community,  its  parties  and  their 
contests,  the  strivings  of  the  ambitious,  the  intrigues  of  the 
crafty.  What  is  the  end  of  all  this  turmoil  ?  the  grave.  What 
is  the  measure  ?  the  Cross. 

Go,  again,  to  the  world  of  intellect  and  science :  consider  the 
wonderful  discoveries  which  the  human  mind  is  making,  the 
variety  of  arts  to  which  its  discoveries  give  rise,  the  all  but 
miracles  by  which  it  shows  its  power ;  the  next,  the  pride  and 
confidence  of  reason,  and  the  absorbing  devotion  of  transitory 
objects,  which  is  the  consequence.  Would  you  form  a  right 
judgment  of  all  this  ?  look  at  the  Cross. 

Again  :  look  at  miser}-,  look  at  poverty  and  destitution,  look 
at  oppression  and  captivity  ;  go  where  food  is  scanty,  and  lodg- 
ing unhealthy.  Consider  pain  and  suffering,  diseases  long  or 
violent,  all  that  is  frightful  and  revolting.  Would  you  know- 
how  to  rate  all  these  ?  gaze  upon  the  Cross. 

Thus  in  the  Cross,  and  Him  who  hung  upon  it,  all  things  meet ; 
all  things  subserve  it,  all  things  need  it.  It  is  their  centre  and 
their  interpretation.  For  lie  was  lifted  upon  it,  that  he  might 
draw  all  men  and  all  things  unto  Ilim. 

There  is  such  a  seizing  of  aU  the  innermost  tnith,  such  a 
compendious  and  full  rendering  of  all  that  the  preacher 
judged  it  necessary  to  say  ;  that  these  s.ermons  may  well 


1 54  John  Henry  Newman. 

stand  as  illustrations  for  those  wlio  think  the  preacher 
should  not  tax  his  audience  beyond  twenty  minutes,  for,  I 
suppose,  few  of  them  took  more  than  that  time  to  preach. 
And  it  does  seem  clear  that,  imlike  Manning's,  they  are 
especially  topical,  some  innermost  thought  struck  the 
preacher's  mind  in  reading  a  gospel  or  an  epistle,  and 
it  branched  out  in  his  mind  through  successive  unfoldings 
of  one  thought — "  Except  ye  see  signs  and  wonders,  ye  will 
not  believe,"  gives  the  sermon  on  "  Faith  idlhout  demonsfror 
tion,"  and  leads  him  to  unfold  that  hfe  cannot  be  spent  in 
proving  things,  that  faith  does  not  ask  jealously  and  coldly 
for  strict  arg-uments,  but  follows  generally  what  has  fair 
evidence  for  it.  Christ's  direction  to  the  man  out  of  whom 
were  cast  seven  devils,  *'Eetum  to  thine  own  house,  and 
show  how  great  things  God  hath  done  for  thee,"  gives  the 
natural  subject  of  'HJie  religious  use  of  excited  feelings.'^ 
The  story  of  the  man  by  the  pool  of  Bethesda  gives 
"  Scii.}3ture  a  Record  of  human  sorrow."  "  Self-denial,  tJw  test  of 
religious  earnestness,"  is  founded  on  the  simple  text,  "  Now 
it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep."  Sometimes  the  text 
and  the  subject  seem  to  be  paradoxical,  as  in  the  sermon, 
"  Religious  faith  Fiational,"  founded  on,  "He  staggered  not 
the  promise  of  God  through  unbehef."  Nor  is  it  in  the 
text  alone,  but  thi'oughout  the  whole  of  these  sermons  Dr. 
Newman  shows  an  extraordinary  affluence  of  sciiptui-al 
knowledge,  like  some  of  the  Middle- Age  monks  in  this,  that 
he  seems  equally  at  home  in  fetching  the  recondite  Scrip- 
tural allusion  or  illustration  or  the  more  cogent  Scriptui-e 
proof.  These  sermons  look  as  if  wholly  imprepai-ed,  they 
have  a  grand  neghgence  about  them,  yet  a  perfect  unity, 
often  paradoxical,  w^ith  always  a  hidden  ciuTent  of  thought 
and  reasoning  running  along.  Sometimes  the  logician 
uses  the  fence  which,  evidently  is  the  dehght,  perhaps, 
almost  the  vice  of  his  mind,  As  in  the  following,  from  the 
sermon 


Pulpit  Monograjylis :  Pusey^  etc.         irr 

TVAITING  FOR  CHKIST. 

So  it  is,  undeterred  by  the  failure  of  former  anticipations,  un- 
believers are  ever  expecting  that  the  Church  and  the  religion  of 
the  Church  are  coming  to  an  end.  They  thought  so  in  the  last 
century.  They  think  so  now.  They  ever  think  the  light  of 
truth  is  going  out,  and  that  their  hour  of  victory  is  come.  Xow, 
I  repeat,  I  do  not  see  why  it  is  reasonable  to  expect  the  over- 
throw of  religion  still,  after  so  many  failures ;  and  yet  unreason- 
able, because  of  previous  disappointments,  to  expect  the  coming 
of  Christ.  Nay,  Christians  at  least,  over  and  above  the  aspect 
of  things,  can  point  to  an  express  promise  of  Christ,  that  He 
will  one  day  coum;  ;  whereas  unbelievers,  I  suppose,  do  not  pro- 
fess any  grounds  at  all  for  expecting  their  own  triumph,  except 
the  signs  of  the  times.  They  are  sanguine,  because  they  seem 
so  strong,  and  the  Church  of  God  seems  so  weak  ;  yet  they  have 
not  enlarged  their  minds  enough  by  the  contemplation  of  past 
history  to  know  that  such  apparent  strength  on  the  one  side, 
and  such  apparent  weakness  on  the  other,  has  ever  been  the  state 
of  the  world  and  the  Church  ;  and  that  this  has  ever  been  one 
chief  or  rather  the  main  reason,  why  Christians  have  expected 
the  immediate  end  of  all  things,  because  the  prospects  of  religion 
were  so  gloomy.  So  that,  in  fact  Christians  and  unbelievers  have 
taken  precisely  the  same  view  of  the  facts  of  the  case  ;  only  they 
have  drawn  distinct  conclusions  from  them  according  to  their 
creed.  The  Christian  has  said,  "  All  looks  so  full  of  tumult  that 
the  world  is  coming  to  an  end  ; "  and  the  unbeliever  has  said, 
"  All  is  so  full  of  tumult  that  the  Church  is  coming  to  an  end;" 
and  there  is  nothing,  surely,  more  superstitious  in  the  one 
opinion  than  in  the  other. 

Ever  and  again,  the  language,  beautiful  in  its  lofty 
simplicity,  its  uncolored  and  unadorned  majesty — glimpses 
which  show  how  painfully  the  mind  of  the  preacher  has 
stood  up)  demanding  the  reasons  for  things,  and  other 
hints  of  a  mind  lying  oj^en,  and  awake,  it  would  seem  to 
any  and  every  wildness  of  belief  and  even  superstition  ? 
Alas !  what  is  wildness  of  belief  ?  and  what  is  superstition  ? 
Dr.  Newman  would  quite  rebut  the  charge  of  mysticism, 


1^6  The  Three  Preachers. 

but  assuredly  he  is  a  mystic,  his  faith  stands  reflecting  all 
the  old  hghts  of  mediseval  ideas.  How  a  man  can  rise  out 
of  rationalism,  and  not  be  a  mystic,  I  cannot  tell.  Sufficient 
to  say  that  these  quiet  logical  sermons  shine  with  the 
tempered  rays  of  a  world  invisible,  but  assuredly  near  a 
world,  not  only  of  powers,  but  of  souls,  persons,  and  events. 
Those  live  there  who  are  able  to  believe  and  to  preach  such 
things.  These  are  three  of  the  most  eminent  men  in  Eng- 
land to-day  ;  men  of  power.  Orators,  in  the  usual  sense 
in  which  that  word  is  used,  they  are  not,  although  Dr. 
Manning  might  have  been  this,  and  Dr.  Newman  was  wont 
to  hold  beneath  the  S2:)e]l  of  his  speech  young  and  ardent 
spirits,  but  they  are  all  alike  unfitted  to  minister  to  the 
ignorant  and  uninformed — the  busy  and  the  thoughtless, 
these  are  men  in  a  special  manner  fitted  in  the  works  to 
which  we  have  referred,  to  be  the  ministers  ;  ministers, 
fitted  rather  to  meet  and  to  aid  pained  and  thoughtful 
natures,  than  to  awaken  careless  and  sleeping  ones.  Man- 
ning and  Newman,  especially,  contain  fountains  for  many 
sermons,  for  years  of  consolation  and  light,  many  a  sermon 
or  even  page  may  be  a  consensus  for  the  conscience,  for  the 
mind,  for  the  faith.  This  said,  we  may  fi*eely  express  our 
grief  that  they  are  where  they  are,  in  Eome.  Yet  that  be- 
came their  legitimate  abode,  when  tradition  and  the  Church 
had  to  eke  out  the  Bible,  and  when  the  rights  of  the  indi- 
vidual judgment  were  renounced  and  denounced. 


IV. 

Effective  Preaching  and  the  Foun- 
dation of  Legitimate  Success. 


N  the  course  of  these  lectui'es  so  many  illustra- 
tions have  been  given  of  the  great  effects  of  pul- 
pit power  in  many  nations  and  ages,  that  I  may 
well  fear  that  I  have  created  some  false  impres- 
sions of  what  effective  preaching  is  ;  that  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  character  of  the  minister  of  religion,  I  have  set 
that  which  is  striking  above  that  which  is  Imninous,  and 
the  abeiTations  of  genius  above  the  calm  and  steady  min- 
istrations of  the  word.  The  effect  of  striking  pictui-es  may 
sometimes  be  to  drive  those  who  contemplate  them  to  des- 
pair when  they  become  the  exaltation  of  the  I'arest  efforts 
of  human  power  and  influence.  We  must  make  eveiy 
allowance  too  in  this  department  of  labor  for  extraordinary 
endowment,  and  extraordmaiy  attainment,  also  for  extraor- 
dinary suiDcrnatui-al  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  for  there  is  no 
doubt  that  some  even  in  the  kingdom  of  nature  he  veiy  much 
nearer  than  others  to  the  most  constant  refi-eshments  of 
Divine  influence.  The  man  is  as  some  rare  and  exti'aordiu- 
ary  vessel,  but  being  such  originally,  what  can  follow,  when 
very  extraordinary  powers  come  into  the  man,  but  extraor- 
dinaiy  and  marvellous  results.  We  have  seen  that  the  history 
of  the  puli^it  is  full  of  instances  of  effective  preaching  from 

dsr) 


158 


Sermons  whicli  have  a  Secret  in  tliem. 


such  causes.  We  fix  om*  eyes  too  much  on  the  transcendent, 
it  is  well,  it  is  admirable,  students  usually  err  on  the  side  of 
over-estimation,  veneration  is  a  quahty  that  grows  w4th  years, 
but  we  shall  err  if  we  compare  oui'  poor  efforts  with  tran- 
scendent gifts  and  powers  ;  yet  on  the  other  hand  we  should 
beUeve  that  the  Gospel  ensures  its  own  success  in  preaching. 
It  is  guaranteed  by  the  most  hallowed  assurances  ;  I  know 
that  there  are  periodicals,  and  there  are  wiiters,  who  never 
weary  of  casting  scorn  and  indig-nity  upon  the  pulpit.  I 
know  many  young  men  tui-n  away  fi'om  the  pulpit  because 
it  seems  to  demand  the  renunciation  of  mental  excitement  ; 
at  any  rate,  it  is  said  so.  Ministers  have  been  called 
"  marrying  and  christening  machines,"  and  the  phrase  as 
"  dull  as  a  sermon  "  has  passed  into  a  proverb.  The  in- 
fluence of  the  preacher  has  suffered  great  depreciation,  and 
especially  fi'om  preachers  themselves. 

Now,  in  order  to  rectify  such  impressions,  I  know  not 
that  I  should  seek  to  fix  your  attention  upon  the  great  in- 
stances of  pulpit  power,  yet  such  may  detain  us  for  awhile. 
Some  sermons  seem  to  hace  a  secret  in  them  ;  What  is  it  ? 
You  remember,  I  dare  say,  that  great  sermon  of  Jonathan 
Edwards  fi-om  that  fearful  text  in  Deuteronomy  xxxii.  35. 
"  Their  feet  shall  slide  in  due  time."  It  is  a  wonderful  ser- 
mon, in  what  is  its  awful  and  electrical  power  :  while  re- 
peating the  words  of  the  text  some  of  the  audience  seized 
fast  hold  upon  the  pillars  of  the  meeting  house,  they  felt  so 
sensibly  their  feet  were  sliding  into  ruin.  Dui-mg  the  de- 
livery of  the  sermon  some  of  the  auditors  shrieked  and 
gi'oaned  aloud,  their  cries  drowned  the  preacher's  voice  and 
forced  him  to  make  a  long  pause.  The  influence  of  this 
sermon  alarmed  nmnbers  and  brought  them  to  decision  ; 
and  that  sermon  has  often  been  j^reached  by  other  tongues, 
it  has  been  said,  with  the  same  results.  Two  of  my  own 
friends,  both  among  the  most  eminent  ministers  of  the  de- 
nommation  to  wliich  I  have   the  honor  to  belong,  have 


On  Effective  Pveacliing^  etc.  \  ^g 

mentioned  to  me  their  uttering  the  seimon  AA-ith  like  effect, 
and  I  have  often  thought  of  preaching  it  myself,  but  I  have 
never  felt  I  could  dare  do  so.  The  semion  has  in  every 
readmg  so  searched  me  that  I  felt  that  I  could  not  with  a 
pui-e  heart  be  its  channel  for  the  awakening  of  others,  for 
W' e  must  never  utter  the  conviction  of  other  men  at  second 
hand,  we  must  make  them  first  of  all  our  own. 

Very  remarkable  indeed  are  many  of  the  illustrations  of 
pulpit  efficiency,  sometimes  a  single  sentence  has  seized 
the  attention.  We  read  of  the  tremendous  excitement  that 
seized  on  the  hearers  of  Whitefield  as  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh  ! 
my  hearers,  the  wrath  to  come  !  the  \\Tath  to  come  !"  And 
when  Massilon  commenced  his  celebrated  sermon  on  the 
death  of  Louis  XIV.  with  the  well-known  sentence,  "  God 
alone  is  great !"  all  the  audience  rose  in  the  vast  and  mag- 
nificent temple  and  reverently  bowed  ;  and  so  also  when 
M.  Bridaine  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  eternity !  eternity !"  at  the 
close  of  his  great  discourse,  it  produced  an  extraordinary 
effect.  Effective  preaching !  why,  the  effects  of  a  spoken 
word  have  sometimes  continued  and  wrought  with  a 
marvellous  power  half  a  century  afterwards.  A  phrase 
dropped  into  the  mind  of  a  lad  on  one  continent  has 
brought  forth  extraoixUnaiy  fruit  half  a  century  afterwards 
on  another.  Dr.  Park  mentions  an  instances  of  an  individ- 
ual who  heard  the  gTcat  and  good  John  Flavel  preach  at 
Daiimouth,  he  had  been  a  member  of  the  train  band  of 
Charles!.,  he  w^as  present  at  the  beheading  of  the  monarch, 
he  had  some  acquaintance  ^ith  Cromwell,  he  heard  Flavel 
preach  when  he  was  fifteen  years  old  from  the  text,  "  If 
any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be 
Anathema  Maranatha."  He  went  to  America,  passed 
through  many  experiences,  and  at  100  years  of  age  was  a 
fanner  at  Middleborough  in  the  new  world  ;  there  sitting 
in  his  field,  he  heai'd  the  words  come  back  to  him  as  he 
had  listened  to  them  eighty-five  years  before,  he  remem- 


1 6o  Traditions  of  the  Pulpit 

bered  the  appearance  of  the  solemn  preacher  rising  to  pro- 
nounce the  benediction  before  he  dismissed  the  auditory 
and  exclaiming  in  piteous  tones,  "  How  shall  I  bless  the 
whole  assembly  when  eveiy  i^erson  in  it  who  loveth  not  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  Anathema  Maranatha?"  He  was 
alai-med  at  the  reminiscence,  and  particularly  at  the  fact 
that  no  minister  had  blessed  him  during  all  those  years,  ho 
pondered  that  closing  remark  of  Flavel,  and  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  century  of  his  life,  he  gave  evidence  that 
he  was  worthy  to  be  enrolled  among  the  members  of  the 
Church  written  in  heaven,  and  bore  his  testimony  for  fifteen 
years  aftei^ards  as  to  the  power  of  the  truth  over  his 
mind. 

Ah !  what  stories  of  the  results  of  the  ministiy  ?  "Who 
was  the  unpolished  country  clergyman  who  supphed  the 
pulpit  of  Edmimd  Calamy  that  Sabbath  in  1G42,  when  a 
young  man,  long  in  mental  distress,  came  to  hear  liim  ? 
In  mind  dark,  weak,  frail,  the  young  man  had  no  disposi- 
tion to  move  abroad  although  he  wished,  as  Mr.  Calamy 
was  absent,  to  hear  that  great  scholar,  INIr.  Jackson,  he 
preferred  remaining  to  hsten  to  the  obscui-e,  unknown,  and 
unnamed  country  minister,  who  announced  his  text, 
*'  Why  are  ye  so  fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith,"  and  it  was 
restorative  medicine  to  the  invalid  ;  he  became  a  new  man, 
he  commenced  a  new  life  of  Cluistian  activity,  he  rose  to 
gi-eat  honor  in  Church  and  State,  became  Vice-Chancellor 
of  Oxford  University,  he  numbered  among  his  puj^ils  John 
Locke,  William  Penn,  Dr.  South,  Dr.  Whitby,  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  and  he  is  still  revered  as  an  oracle  and  a 
prince  among  divines. — It  was  John  Owen,  but  he  was 
never  able  to  discover  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  that 
health-giving  word,  and  probably,  if  found,  it  would  only 
have  been  some  frail  but  truthful  creatm'o,  only  remarkable 
for  faith  in  the  gi'eat  power  of  God. 

These  are  the  traditions  of  the  pulpit  ;  but  how  is  the 


On  Effective  Preaching^  etc.  1 6 1 

power  such  instances  record  to  be  attained  ?  and  you  will 
go  with  me  when  I  quote  the  words  of  an  ancient  writer  on 
the  vanity  of  all  mere  knowledge,  and  all  mere  scholarship 
for  this  pui-pose.  "  Quany,"  says  he,  "  the  granite  rock 
with  razors,  or  moor  the  vessel  with  a  thread  of  silk,  then, 
may  j^ou  hope  with  such  keen  and  dehcate  instruments  as 
human  knowledge  and  human  reason  to  contend  against 
those  giants,  the  i^assions  and  the  pride  of  man."  No,  we 
are  to  beheve  in  the  ministiy,  and  we  are  to  believe  in  the 
ministry  as  a  divinely-appointed  and  instituted  order  of 
men,  but  the  guarantee  of  the  success  of  the  ministry  is  to 
be  found  in  the  fitting  nature  surcharged  with  a  Divine  in- 
fluence. We  cannot  indeed  estunate  the  influence  of  the 
ministry  in  many  particulars  ;  if  the  minister  be  a  man,  if 
he  maintain  the  work  of  personal  education,  if  he  sustain 
himself  before  men,  he  will  influence  the  intellect  of  his  aud- 
ience and  of  his  neighborhood  ;  he  "v^ill  influence  the  taste  as 
well  as  the  intellect,  he  will  influence  and  modify  the  hterary 
character  of  a  people  ;  a  power,  his  power  wiU  be  obvious  up- 
on the  morals  and  business  hfe  of  the  community,  he  will  give 
a  i-ehgious  chai'acter  to  the  community,  but  I  conceive  of 
all  this  as  over  and  above,  but  still  not  beneath,  the  actual 
depth  of  the  preacher's  work  ;  and  he  may  do  all  this,  and 
many  do  all  this,  and  they  still  sink  quite  beneath  the  real 
design  of  the  Christian  ministr}^,  and  they  may  be  success- 
ful in  all  these  departments,  and  still  we  cannot  speak  of 
then-  works  as  sufficient  and  really  successful.  Preaching 
stands  really  related  to  the  law  of  Divine  means  and  opera- 
tions as  eveiy  ordinance  of  nature  is  an  illustration  of  a 
decree  of  God.  In  this  also,  as  much  as  the  sun  and  the 
lightning,  the  magnet  and  the  dewdi'op.  Dr.  Phelps  says 
well  and  wisel}^  "  Divme  tnith  is  never  preached  when  God 
meant  that  it  should  be  T\ithheld,  it  is  never  withheld  when 
God  means  it  should  be  preached.  And  when  preached  it 
goes  forth  upon  its  mission,  beai'ing  on  every  breath  that 


1 62  TliG  Ftilpit  in  Vanity  Fa 


ir 


utters  it,  to  every  car  that  listens  to  it,  a  purpose  foiined 
before  the  world  was  ;  that  same  eye  which  has  v»'orked  its 
will  that  each  se^oarate  raindrop  and  snowflake  should  come 
down  from  heaven,  and  that  just  so  many  should  fall,  and 
should  fall  just  here  and  there,  casts  the  same  imperial  look 
upon  the  transactions  of  eveiy  Christian  sanctuary.  The 
very  atmosphere  of  such  a  sanctuary  vibrates  incessantly 
beneath  the  giving  forth  of  everlasting  decrees.  Such  is  the 
theory  which  must  He  at  the  foundation  of  every  mtelligent 
view  of  the  Divine  sovereignty  as  applied  to  preaching, 
and  its  results." 

It  is  obvious  that  for  purposes  so  divine  and  almighty  as 
these,  many  of  the  modem  pulpit  methods  are  altogether 
insufficient.  A  modem  satu'ist  gives  a  descrii^tion  of  his 
modern  travels  upon  the  line  of  route  taken  by  Bunyan. 
"  A  truthful  man,  but  infected  with,  many  veiy  fantastic 
notions !"  In  the  course  of  his  travels  he  found  that  in 
Vanity  Fail*  things  were  ordered  very  differently  to  the 
proceedmgs  of  the  ancient  day  ;  so  different  that,  so  far 
from  the  inhabitants  of  the  fair  persecuting  preachers, 
every  street  had  its  church,  and  the  reverend  clergy  he  tes- 
tifies are  nowhere  held  in  higher  respect  than  in  Vanity 
Fair.  Estimable  men  there  he  met  with,  the  Kev.  Mr. 
Shallowdeep,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Humble-the-truth  ;  there  he  met 
with  that  fine  old  clerical  character,  the  Eev.  ]\Ir.  This-to-day, 
and  his  excellent  successor,  the  Rev.  Mr.  That-to-mon'ow, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Bewilderment,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clog-the-Spirit, 
and  that  eminent  divuie,  the  Rev.  ]\Ir.  Windy-doctruie  ;  for 
such  teachers  as  these,  and  really  they  are  legion,  we  can- 
not prophesy  with  certainty  any  considerable  amount  of 
success. 

Often  has  the  imlpit  presented  to  the  eye  of  the  satirist 
men,  true  citizens  of  the  city  in  which  Vanity  Fair  is  built ; 
the  following  lines  w^ould  seem  to  have  been  dictated  from 
some  such  vision  : — 


0)1  Effective  Freacldng^  etc,  1 63 

See  where  the  famed  Adonis  passes  by 
The  man  of  spotless  life— and  spotless  tie  ; 
His  reputation, — none  the  fact  disputes, 
Has  ever  been  as  brilliant  as  his— boots. 
And  all  his  flock  believe  exceptionless 
.     His  points  of  doctrine — and  his  points  of  dress. 
He  makes  the  supercilious  worlding  feel 
That  e'en  religion  can  be — quite  genteel. 
He  lets  the  hesitating  sceptic  know, 
A  man  may  be  a  Christian  and  a — beau  ; 
And  so  combines,  despite  satiric  railers, 
A  model  for  professors  and  for  tailors. 
And  all  his  mighty  energies  are  bent — 
On  being  the  Beau  Brummell  of  dissent. 

The  ministry  of  Vanity  Fair  is  only  the  ministiy  of  the 
wind,  and  its  only  legitimate  fruit  wiU  be  the  whiiiwind, 
sweeping  away  the  refuges  of  lies.  But  whoever  has  eyes 
to  see  will  not  fail  to  behold  results  which  in  any  other 
matter  would  seem  to  the  eye  amazing.* 

*  We  fear  that  the  following  letter,  which  was  originally  pub- 
lished in  the  Smellfungus  Gazette,  will  seem  to  he  very  much  out 
of  place  in  a  work  such  as  the  present.  It  may,  however,  suggest 
some  hints  from  which  some  young  preachers  may  profit.  It  might 
have  been  included  in  Punch's  Letters  to  Ms  Son.  This,  however, 
is  not  the  case  ;  it  seems  to  be  really  a  letter  addressed,  in  all 
seriousness,  from  an  old  and  beloved  minister  to  his  son,  upon  his 
entrance  upon  the  ministry  : 

Mv  Dear  Boy: — At  last  you  have  received  the  call  to  that 
well-known  and  much-honored  charge  of  the  old  interest  of  the 
Cave  of  Adullam.  I  need  not  say  how  "  my  heart  rejoices,  even 
mine."  You  know  I  have  so  often  talked  with  you  upon  the  mat- 
ters pertaining  to  the  ministry,  that  I  can  say  very  little  you  will 
not  anticipate.  You  have  asked  me,  too,  to  give  you  the  charge 
on  the  day  of  your  ordination.  I  shall  accede  to  your  request ;  but 
that  will  be  an  affair  ad  populnm,  although  addressed  to  you.  I 
should  like  to  address  some  hints  which  may  be  regarded  as  ad 
clerum — words  addressed  to  your  deepest  convictions,  to  your  most 
secrpt  thoughts — words  which  may  be  connected  with  your  happiest 


1 64  Are  the  Effects  BespicaUe  ? 

EjBfective  preacliing !  why,  of  the  effects  of  the  pulpit  it 
has  been  said,  tliat  many  of  the  results  of  preaching  which 
the  world  affects  to  despise  would  be  received  with  uni- 

interests  and  best  hopes.  Lay  these  to  heart,  my  dear  boy,  and 
they  will  not  fail,  if  you  constantly  keep  them,  as  I  may  tell  you, 
now,  speaking — "  as  such  an  one  as  Paul  the  aged,"  "  to  mine  own 
son  Timothy" — I  have  ever  done  ;  would  that  I  had  done  so  more — 
they  will  not  fail  to  bear  and  bring  forth  fruit. 

I.  A  very  foremost  word.  You  are  not  married  ;  I  am  not  aware 
that  you  are  likely  to  be  yet,  and  therefore  I  do  not  suppose  this 
will  excite  any  smile.  But,  of  course,  you  will  be  ;  then  I  charge 
you,  marry  icell—Xodk  out  for  a  rich  wife.  ^Vhy  not  ?  It  is  just  as 
easy  for  you  to  do  this,  my  dear  lad,  as  to  marry  a  poor  one.  If 
you  look  round  the  circles  of  the  most  eminent  servants  of  God, 
who  have  adorned  the  pulpit  in  these  latter  times,  you  will  find 
how  they  have  all  laid  deep  the  foundations  of  their  eminence  and 
usefulness  by  marrying  well.  This  will  be  influence  to  you.  God 
works  by  human  means,  and  money  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  human 
means.  Oh,  what  wrecks  of  men  I  have  known  ;  some  who  stood 
far  higher  than  I  did  at  college,  but  they  lost  themselves,  alas !  in 
their  marriage.  This  guided  me  when  I  married  your  own  pre- 
cious mother ;  it  is  true  she  was  a  woman  of  prayer  and  piety — 
but  what  a  gratification  it  has  been  to  me  to  know  that  her  money 
made  both  her  and  myself  independent.  I  heard  of  your  attentions 
to  Lydia  Mason — a  very  nice  girl  and  good  ;  but,  my  dear  boy,  she 
is  a  poor  governess  ;  and  let  me  tell  you,  that  my  friend  Bigsby, 
the  brewer  I  mean,  has  inquired  most  kindly  after  you — his  daugh- 
ter, Letitia,  is  a  most  delightful  person. 

II.  There  is  a  great  prejudice  against  the  use  of  other  people's 
sermons,  so  much  so,  that  I  have  known  two  or  three  who,  by  a 
very  imprudent  use  of  them,  have  forfeited  their  positions  ;  but  I" 
should  say  to  you,  cultivate  a  wise  use  of  other  people's  sermons  :  it 
mil  save  you  much  trouble  ;  it  will  familiarize  your  mind  with  the 
best  efforts  of  the  best  men,  and  it  will  call  into  activity  the  con- 
stant exercise  of  that  most  wonderful  power  of  the  mind,  the  mem- 
ory. IIow  strange  is  the  prejudice  against  this.  Yet  at  concerts 
you  invariably-find  the  greatest  singers  do  not  sing  their  own,  but 
other  people's  words  ;  and  I  am  told  that  those  who  are  called 
actors  in  our  theatres,  do  not  utter  and  act  their  own  words.  The 
other  evening  I  was  persuaded  to  go  to  the  Mechanics'  Institute, 


Or  Ejff-edlve  PreacJiing^  etc.  165 

versal  admii-ation,  and  would  render  immortal  the  name 
of  the  man  who  should  be  instrumental  in  achievmg  them, 
if  they  were  onl}'  the  fi'uit  of  a  discoveiy  in  science,  or  an 

to  hear  a  celebrated  person  from  liOndon  road.  To  my  amazement, 
he  read  nothing  of  his  own.  Now,  this  usage  ought  to  be  sanc- 
tified by  a  judicious  use  of  the  sermons  which  precious  men  have 
preaclied. 

III.  Uave,  my  dear  boy,  a  due  regard  to  health.  Especially  take 
care  of  the  sore  throat  and  tceak  chest ;  remember  who  said,  "  Mas- 
ter, spare  Thyself."  Indeed,  when  I  think  of  your  naturally  tender 
lungs,  and  the  danger  resulting  from  exposure  to  the  air,  after 
coming  out  of  crowded  rooms — a  danger  to  which  those  who  simply 
attend  as  hearers  cannot  be  subject — my  tenderest  parental  feelings 
have  been  excited,  in  the  hope  that  your  mind  might  be  drawn  to 
dear  L^itia  Bigsby  ;  in  that  case  you  might — (in  the  event  of  that 
sad  pectoral  weakness  and  pulmonary  indisposition,  which,  alas  !  lay 
aside  annually  so  many  of  our  brethren,  ?c/((?  are  able  to  afford  to  he 
laid  aside — the  noble  race  of  our  modern  martyrs,  "  men  who  have 
hazarded  their  lives  in  the  high  places  of  the  field" — O,  my  boy, 
what  part  of  the  chapel  can  be  found  much  higher  than  the 
pulpit !) — I  say,  in  such  an  event,  you  also  might  be  able  to  retire 
early  in  life  with  a  comfortable  independence  ;  and  what  a  thought 
to  employ,  not  only  your  talents  and  learning,  but  even  your  retire- 
ment for  such  high  aims  and  ends  ;  as  our  great  Milton  has  it, — 

"  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

IV.  Cultivate  respecAalle  society.  Do  not  regard  yourself  as  a 
poor  preaching  friar  or  miserable  curate.  If  you  come  to  regard 
yourself  so,  you  will  be  regarded  so.  Some  of  my  brethren  in  the 
ministry  have  often  shocked  me  ;  they  have  had  a  tendency  to  low 
society,  under  the  idea  of  doing  good  ;  now  I  have  lon^  thought 
that  few  people  do  much  good  out  of  their  own  circle,  and  we 
ought  to  believe  that  if  God  intends  to  make  us  eminently  useful, 
He  will  find  the  occasion  for  it.  You  have  always,  through  mercy, 
been  accustomed  to  good  society,  and  to  the  ways  and  usages  of 
good  society.  I  hope  you  will  never,  as  the  apostle  says, ''  Condescend 
to  men  of  low  estate;''  the  case  is  different  in  rising,  it  is  our  duty 
to  attempt  to  rise.  Cultivate,  as  far  as  you  have  opportunity,  the 
intelligent  upper  circles.  Who  knows  what  a  word  si)(>kon  there 
may  do,  or  in  what  way  your  influence  may  extend?     "While  I  am 


1 66     The  Ministry  Claims  to  he  Superhuman. 

experiment  in  philosophy.  The  very  efforts  of  this  ministra- 
tion are  superhuman.  More  marvellous,  the  ministry  is 
most  successful,  is  only  successful,  when  it  aims  at  the 

upon  this  point,  let  me  also  say,  wear  the  gown.  I  do  not  know 
if  you  have  one  in  Cave  Adullam  vestry,  but  if  not,  a  word  dropped 
in  the  ears  of  a  sister  or  two,  will  soon  bring  you  the  present  of 
one  ;  and  be  sure  you  wear  the  hood  of  your  degree  over  it— it 
tells.  Why  should  you  go  into  the  pulpit,  like  an  auctioneer 
into  his  box  ?  and  how  delightful  to  recall  to  mind,  while  you  are 
robing  yourself,  that  you  are  making  yourself  look  more  like  an 
apostle.  I  firmly  believe,  my  dear  boy,  that  the  gown  is  a  means  of 
grace.  I  have  no  doubt  there  are  souls  in  glory  to  whom  the  word 
came  with  power,  because  it  came  in  a  gown  ;  and  I  say  to  you, 
"  Do  these  things  and  thou  shalt  save  thyself  and  them  that  hear 
thee."  * 

V.  llefcrring  to  matters  less  immediately  connected  with  your 
own  pastoral  duties,  I  would  say,  le  active  on  committees.  Commit- 
tees I  regard  as  one  of  the  most  distinctly  divine  agencies  ap- 
pointed in  the  Church.  All  the  immense  amount  of  good  per- 
formed in  modern  times  may  be  traced  to  the  action  of  committees. 
In  the  course  of  a  long  life  I  can  speak  of  the  many  blessed  seasons 
1  have  enjoyed  round  committee  boards  ;  they  do  amazingly  limit 
and  dilute  individual  responsibility  ;  and  things  done  by  commit- 
tees do  not  go  on  so  feverishly  and  impetuously.  I  have  known 
many  a  vehement  enthusiast  worn  out,  and  worn  down,  by  being 
placed  on  a  committee.  Oh,  it  is  a  fine  refrigerator,  and  I  have 
often  thought  that  as  ices  and  champagne  are  the  luxuries  of 
the  dessert  table  in  high  society,  so  committees  are  the  ices, 
and  those  sweet  occasions,  the  annual  meetings,  with  their  rich 
foam  of  excitement,  are  the  champagne.  You  will  notice,  my  dear 
boy,  that  the  way  to  all  eminence  is  through  the  committee-room. 
You  will  observe  that  those  men  who  are  the  most  prominent,  the 
most  beloved  and  honored  names,  are  not  the  greatest  of  preachers 
or  writers  ;  but  they  are  punctual  in  their  attendance  on  com- 
mittees. This  counsel  is  most  vital — be  great  in  committees,  you 
may  rule  your  world,  whatever  that  world  may  be  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, dear  boy,  do  not  think  I  quote  such  words  irreverently  ;  but 
it  may  bo  truly  said  of  committees,  "  Thorn  that  honor  me  I  will 
honor,  but  they  that  despise  me,  shall  be  lightly  esteemed."  And 
how  can  we  more  surely  know  and  test  a  man's  disposition  for  use- 


0)1  Effective  Preaching^  etc.  \  67 

superhuman,  is  only  mighty  when  it  claims  to  be  super- 
human ;  if  not  so,  the  sarcasm  of  Sydney  Smith  ])ecomes 
a  natui'al  expression  of  the   truth,  when  he  described  the 

fulnesss  than  by  his  attendance  upon  those  committees  which  arc 
the  very  means  of  usefulness  ?  Moreover,  committees  give  the 
endorsement  of  decency  to  a  desire  to  do  good.  A  man  who  has 
no  sanction  from  a  committee  for  the  good  he  says  he  does,  or  at- 
tempts to  do,  will  usually  be  found  to  run  into  many  indecencies  of 
zeal ;  and  it  is  your  duty,  my  dear  lad,  from  the  responsible  place 
you  are  called  to  fill,  to  attempt  to  interpose  between  any  such 
rude  efforts.  How  can  that  expect  the  blessing  of  God  which  is 
not  in  the  order  of  His  Church. 

VI.  And  now,  yet  more  confidentially,  my  lad,  I  say  to  you,  keep 
a  watch  over  your  brethren  in  the  ministry  ;  they  are  very  likely 
to  become  inflated  by  pride  and  success  ;  if,  therefore,  you  can  say 
a  word  at  all  calculated  to  keep  them  humble,  especially  humble 
in  the  opinion  of  others,  say  it ;  and  I  say  this  also,  remembering 
that  your  brethren  will  keep  a  watch  over  your  interests  in  this 
way.  Never  in  the  course  of  a  long  life  in  this  have  I  found  my 
brethren  wanting  ;  and  never,  I  can  truly  say,  have  I  been  want- 
ing in  rendering  this  work  of  faith  and  labor  of  love. 

Vn.  Keep  also  a  watchful  eye  on  all  likely  persons,  especially 
wealthy  or  influential,  who  may  come  to  your  town  ;  call  upon 
them,  and  attempt  to  win  them  over  by  the  devotions  of  the  draw- 
ing-room to  your  cause.  Thus,  you  may  most  efficiently  serve  the 
Master's  interests.  People  need  looking  after,  and  the  result  of  a 
long  experience  goes  to  confirm  my  conviction  long  cherished,  that 
the  power  of  the  pulpit  is  trifling  compared  with  the  power  of  the 
parlor.  We  must  imitate  and  sanctify,  by  the  Word  of  God  and  of 
prayer,  the  exercises  of  the  Jesuits.  They  succeeded,  not  by  the 
pulpit  so  much  as  by  the  parlor.  In  the  parlor  you  can  whisper — 
you  can  meet  people  on  all  their  little  personal,  private  ideas.  The 
pulpit  is  a  very  unpleasant  place  ;  of  course,  it  is  the  great  power 
of  God,  and  so  on  ;  but  it  is  the  parlor  that  tells,  and  a  minister 
has  not  the  same  chance  of  success  if  he  be  a  good  preacher,  as  if 
he  is  a  perfect  gentleman  ;  nor  in  cultivated  society  has  any  man 
a  legitimate  prospect  of  success  if  he  is  not,  wliatover  else  he  may 
be,  a  gentleman.  I  have  always  admired  Lord  Shaftesbury's  char- 
acter of  St.  Paul — in  his  characteristics — that  he  was  a  fine  gentle- 
man ;  and  I  would  say  to  you,  be  a  gentleman  :  not  that  I  need  to 


1 68  The  Sarcasm  of  Sydney  Smiili, 

first  missionai'ics  to  India — Caret's  and  Marslimans — as  a 
little  detachment  of  maniacs  sent  out  to  command  the 
allegiance  of  hundreds  of  millions  of  men  ;  if  there  is  no 
supernatin-al  power  determining  the  salvation  of  the  world, 
and  giving  force  and  conviction  to  the  truth,  as  sjwken  by 
the  minister — this,  the  dining-out  language  of  divines,  is 
none  the  less  the  language  of  common  sense.  It  is  to  be 
feared  that  preaching  is  often  a  vanity,  a  mere  vanity  ;  the 
foundation  of  success  is  first  of  all  the  apprehension  that 
the  Gospel  is  the  great  power  of  God,  if  it  is  this  it  will 

say  so,  but  am  persuaded  that  only  iu  this  way  can  we  hope  for 
tlie  conversion  of  our  growing  wealthy  middle  classes.  We  must 
show  that  our  religion  is  the  religion  of  good  sense  and  good  taste  ; 
that  we  disapprove  of  strong  excitements  and  stimulants  ;  and  0, 
my  dear  boy,  if  you  would  be  useful,  often  in  your  closet,  make  it  a 
matter  of  earnest  prayer  that  you  may  be  i^ropcr.  If  I  were  asked 
what  is  your  first  duty — be  proper;  and  your  second,  be  proper; 
and  your  third,  be  proper. 

VIII.  I  would  also  say  it  is  your  duty  to  keep  the  vigilance  of 
your  ministerial  brethren  constantly  awake  by  finding  expedients 
for  calling  upon  any  of  the  members  of  their  flocks.  How  sad  it  is 
to  think  how  often  some  excellent  member  is  hungering  after  some 
word  of  life  which  his  or  her  minister  has  not  to  give,  and  you 
have  it,  I  know  this  has  sometimes  most  vulgarly  been  called 
poaching  on  your  neighbor's  preserves  ;  the  expression  is  horridly 
vulgar.  You  must  only,  without  heeding  it,  attend  to  the  sacred 
calls  of  duty — "  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  season."  Occasion- 
ally, you  see  the  member  of  a  neighboring  congregation  in  yours. 
This  may  be  well  made  the  occasion  of  a  call — a  little  natural  in- 
quiry and  attention  in  case  of  illness  or  death  in  the  family — or 
any  restlessness  in  the  church  or  congregation,  should  be  watched, 
and  a  word  or  two,  rightly  disposed,  will  go  a  great  way  ;  and  you 
must  remember  the  object  of  your  life  in  the  sweet  hymn — 

"  We  are  a  garden  walled  around," 
and  your  business  must  be  to  make  as  much  as  you  can  of  your 
own  garden.     Never  fear,  your  neighbor  will  make  the  most  of  his. 

IX.  Keep  at  home  !  don't  invite  brother  ministers  from  your  own 
neighborhood  to  exchange  with  you,  or  to  supply  your  pulpit ;  it 


Oil  Effective  Preacldng^  etc.  i6o 

effect  a  lodgment  in  the  conscience,  and  it  will  overcome. 
It  is  so — mysteriously  and  awfully — it  is  so,  there  is  in- 
deed no  waiTant  for  ministerial  success  without  di\ine 
influence  ;  without  this,  let  us  assert  it  again  and  again, 
our  work  becomes  that  of  the  mere  artist,  and  we  become 
mere  deists.  Listen  to  the  vciy  stirring  words  of  Char- 
nock  :  "  Can  a  well-composed  oration,  setting  out  aU  the 
advantages  of  life  and  health,  raise  a  dead  man  or  cm-e  a 
diseased  body  ?"  You  may  as  well  exliort  a  blind  man  to 
behold  the  sun,  and  prevail  as  much.     No  man  ever  yet 

disturbs  the  minds  of  your  own  friends ;  and  unless  vour  pulpit 
power  is  of  the  highest,  it  assuredly  invites  dissatisfaction.  In 
order  that  this  may  be  done  more  effectively,  decry  what  is  called 
"  intellectual  preaching."  No  good  can  come  out  of  it.  The  pulpit 
has  never  been  good  for  anything  since  the  rage  for  it  set  in.  The 
people  like  "  the  pure  milk  of  the  word ;"  recollect  the  Gospel  is 
milk  for  babes.  I  heard  an  old  lady  say,  the'  other  day,  "  I  do  love 
our  dear  minister ;  for  Sunday  after  Sunday  we  have  the  same  thing 
over  and  over  again.  It 's  always  the  same  old  story.  No  matter 
what  text  he  may  take,  we  always  know  what's  coming."  Oh,  how 
I  loved  that  dear  old  lady  !  and  oh,  how  peaceful  and  prosperous 
should  we  be  within  the  walls  of  our  Jerusalem  if  all  were  like 
her. 

X.  And,  finally,  have  a  proper  regard  to  your  office  ;  magnify  it 
by  keeping  up  a  proper  distance  and  reserve  between  yourself  and 
your  people — few  people  can  afford  to  come  too  closely  together 
without  mischiet  to  each  other.  We  want,  my  dear  boy,  a  vadc 
mecum  of  ministerial  etiquette,  and  I  have  sometimes  thought  I 
should  like  to  spend  these  last  days  of  my  life  in  the  compilation 
of  such  a  volume — a  kind  of  ministerial  looking-glass,  which  might 
be  studied  before  going  into  company  ;  but  say  nothing,  and  you 
will  say  nothing  amiss  ;  study  deportment ;  remember  all  eyes  arc 
upon  you.  Admit  no  one  to  your  friendship,  and  then  nobody  will 
abuse  it. 

Many  other  hints  are  on  my  mind  ;  but  here,  for  the  present,  I 
close.  Only  remember,  as  the  Apostle  says,  "  If  these  things  be  in 
you,  and  abound,  they  will  make  you  that  you  bo  neither  harrcn 
nor  unfruitful."  I  am  your  affectionate  fa.ther, 

SECOND    SERIC5.        8 


170  First  of  all,  Divine  Influence. 

imagined  that  the  strewing  a  dead  body  with  flowers  could 
raise  it  to  life,  no  man  can.  The  hungering  man,  spiiitually 
dead — will  elegant  motions  ever  make  him  to  open  his  eyes 
and  to  stand  upon  his  feet?  " Have  you  never,"  continues 
this  eloquent  reasoner,  "  discoursed  with  some  profane 
loose  fellow  so  pressingly,  th  at  he  seemed  to  be  shaken  out 
of  his  excuses  for  his  sinful  course,  yet  not  shaken  out  of 
his  sin,  that  you  might  as  soon  have  persuaded  the  tide 
in  full  sea  to  retreat,  or  a  Hon  to  change  its  nature,  as 
have  overcome  him  by  all  your  arguments.  So  that  it  is 
not  the  faint  breath  of  man  or  the  rational  consideration 
of  the  mind,  that  are  able  to  do  this  work,  without  the 
mighty  pleadings  and  powerful  operations  of  the  great 
Persuader  or  Advocate,  the  Spirit,  to  alter  the  temple  of 
the  soul."  And  in  a  similar  tone,  John  Howe  says  :  "Alas, 
what  could  preaching  do,  if  we  could  suj^pose  it  never  so 
general,  while  the  Si^irit  of  the  living  God  restrams  and 
withholds  His  influence?  we  may  as  well  attempt  to  bat- 
ter strong  walls  with  the  breath  of  our  mouths,  as  do  good 
upon  men's  souls  ^nthout  the  Sx^mt  of  God." 

I  have  thus  dwelt  too  lengthily,  many  of  you  may  feel, 
upon  what,  after  everythmg  is  said,  must  be  regarded  as 
the  chief  foundation  of  all  usefTilness  and  of  every  effi- 
ciency in  the  puljoit.  This  distinguishes  the  preacher  from 
the  lecturer,  it  matters  not  where  others  di-aw  the  distinc- 
tion, do  you  di*aw  it  in  this,  that  your  pulpit  work  is  no 
mere  mental  exercise  or  exegesis — it  is  work  lying  imme- 
diately in  the  relation  of  the  divine  decrees,  and  beneath 
the  pledge  of  the  Divine  Influence  and  Blessing. 

But  again,  !Mr.  Bridges  has  truly  remarked  in  his  excel- 
lent work  on  the  Christian  niinistr}^  that  the  very  symp- 
toms of  success  are  very  fi-equentty  mistaken,  they  may  be 
at  best  but  wonderful  signs  ;  if  people  crowd  to  hear  it  is 
well,  but  John  did  not  treat  with  glowing  compliments  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  when  they  thronged  to  his  baptism, 


On  Effective  Preaching^  etc,  \  j  i 

and  if  they  admire  the  discourse,  it  may  be  the  admiration 
of  the  sph'it  charmed  beneath  the  spell  of  music  ;  hke  those 
who  heard  Ezekiel ;  and  if  there  is  a  general  confession  of 
sinfulness,  there  may  be  no  warning  to  flee  from  the  wrath 
to  come  ;  and  if  there  is  a  temporary  interest,  it  may  bo 
only  like  the  rejoicmg  of  those  who  heard  John,  the  will- 
ingness for  a  season.  And  then  again,  let  there  not  be  on 
the  other  hand  an  unnatural  despondency.  Ministerial 
success  must  be  viewed  as  extending  beyond  present  ap- 
pearances ;  the  saying  is  trae,  "  one  soweth  and  another 
reapeth,"  "  some  men  labor,  and  others  enter  mto  their  la- 
bors ;"  innumerable  instances  show  work,  which  seemed 
most  unproductive,  may  be  the  seed-time  of  some  further 
harvest-field.  HJighest  witnesses  attest  this,  the  pathway 
of  the  Word  is  not  in  a  straight  hue,  it  is  not  even  in  a 
calculable  circle  ;  but  it  has  "  a  free  course  and  it  is  glori- 
fied," it  is  like  the  meteoric  cuiTents,  and  effective  as  they 
are  in  its  career.  "  If  ^Miitefield  had  not  visited  Cambus- 
lang  in  Scotland,"  it  has  been  said,  "  Buchanan  probably 
never  would  have  visited  Malabar  ;"  we  often  do  yery 
wrong  when  v;e  expect  to  see  a  word  bear  fruit  exactly 
upon  the  same  spot  where  the  labor  was  bestowed,  it  may 
bear  fi'uit  in  the  soil,  nay,  with  a  wondei-ful  compound  in- 
terest, even  hke  the  bending  sheaf  of  com,  from  the  one 
grain.  But  the  soil  is  not  confined  to  a  tillage  or  a  to^^^l, 
a  country  or  a  kingdom,  and  while  despondency  is  in  the 
heart  of  the  lal^orer,  the  blaster  of  the  harvest  may  be  say- 
ing, "  Thi-ust  in  thy  sickle  and  reap,  for  the  harvest  is  fully 
ripe."  Some  day  we  may  know  the  law  by  which  the  gi-cat 
Master  Husbandman  works,  at  jtrcsent,  it  is  confessed,  we 
labor  on  in  faith,  we  have  to  remember  constantly,  the  tlif- 
fusive  character  of  ti-uth,  the  inherent  value  of  one  mind, 
especially  the  power  of  the  renewed  mind  to  reproduce  in 
others,  by  the  grace  of  God,  its  own  convictions.  And  wo 
may  weU  fear  our  power.     Mr.  Jones,  in  his  introduction 


1 72     Sincjidar  Instances  of  Pluplt  Influence. 

to  the  English  edition  of  Porter's  Lectures  on  Freachiiig, 
says,  and  it  staggered  my  faith  as  I  read  it,  for  the  sen- 
tence at  any  rate  puts  a  possibility  with  fearful  strength, 
"  The  faults  of  one  sennon  fi'om  the  pulpit  may  produce 
mischief  through  a  century,  nay,  through  eternity."  I 
thought  it  was  strongly  i)ut,  but  I  remembered  instances 
which  even  seemed  to  confii'ni  this  harsh,  this  temble  state- 
ment. John  Murray  was  a  very  eminent  Puritan  preacher 
of  Boston.  He  preached  from  the  text,  "  Though  the  num- 
ber of  the  children  of  Israel  shall  be  as  the  sand  of  the 
sea,  a  remnant  shall  be  saved."  This  was  one  of  the  first 
texts  from  which  he  discoursed  in  Boston,  and  this  was  the 
first  sentence — "  If  one  should  buy  a  rich  cloth  and  make 
it  into  a  garment,  and  then  burn  it,  but  save  the  remnant, 
what  must  be  thought  of  him  ?  "  It  was  clumsily  put,  but 
it  had  a  sad  effect  upon  a  young  man  who  heard  it ;  he 
carried  it  to  his  home  in  an  inland  town,  there  he  pub- 
hshed  and  warped  that  one  sad  sentence,  and  produced  a 
large  dissension  from  the  churches.  It  is  when  we  hear 
such  thhigs  that  we  feel  how  natural  was  the  language  of 
Luther,  "  I  am  now  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  long 
time  employed  in  the  business  of  preaching,  but  I  never 
ascend  the  x)ulpit  without  trembhng."  It  behoves  us  to  be 
fearful,  for  we  work  beneath  mysterious  laws  ;  a  word,  we 
know,  may  be  a  fatal  offence  ;  it  behoves  us  to  guard  our- 
selves agaiust  the  woe  of  those  by  whom  the  offence  com- 
cth.  But  so  also  often  the  mightiest  effect  is  the  result  of 
some  simple  word,  some  sermon  of  which  we  thought  but 
little  ;  most  of  the  sainted  Payson's  sermons  are  very 
simple  ;  a  discourse  he  thought  httle  of,  and  wrote  at  a  sit- 
ting, was  one  of  the  most  effective  he  ever  preached.  "  I 
could  not  but  wonder  to  see  God  work  by  it,"  he  says. 
Among  the  most  simple  and  unformed  of  modern  preach- 
ers was  James  Sherman,  of  Surrey  Chapel,  but  Mr.  Allon 
in  his  recently  iniblished  biography,  goes  so  far  as  to  claim 


On  Effectwe  Preaching,  etc.  173 

for  him  the  place  of  the  most  effective  minister  in  results 
ever  since  the  days  of  WhitefielcL  "Rarely,"  says  he, 
"did  he  preach  without  some  ascertained  conversions  ; 
sometimes  they  were  numbered  by  scores,  and  to  one  ser- 
mon alone,  preached  in  SuiTcy  Chapel,  in  1857,  eighty-four 
persons  who  joined  the  chui'ch  there,  attributed  their  con- 
version." If  we  look  into  the  by-paths  of  ministerial  biog- 
raphy, we  shall  find  much  to  confirm  us  in  the  impression 
of  the  efficiency  of  the  pulpit ;  not  every  biography  is  either 
wisely  or  worthily  done,  but  there  are  few,  I  think,  fi'om 
which  a  young  student  may  not  receive  cncoui'agement  and 
help. 

There  are  inferior  considerations  which  enter  into  the 
conditions  of  legitimate  success.  Rhetoric — which  is  the 
power  of  giving  effect  to  all  logic,  all  composition,  need  not 
be  treated  with  contempt ;  yet  it  may  be  surely  said,  few 
preachers  aim  to  deliver  well  and  effectively  what  they  have 
even  prepared  with  immense  labor  and  care.  "\Mien,  in  a 
Tui'kish  mosque,  one  with  a  yery  harsh  voice  was  reading 
the  Koran  in  a  loud  tone,  a  good  and  holy  Mollah  went  to 
him  and  said — "  What  is  your  monthly  stipend  ?  "  And 
he  answered,  "  Nothmg."  Then  said  he,  "  Why  give  thy- 
self so  much  trouble  ?  "  And  he  said,  "  I  am  reading  for 
the  sake  of  God"  The  good  and  holy  MoUah  replied — 
"  For  the  God's  sake  do  not  read ;  for  if  you  enunciate 
the  Koran  after  this  manner,  thou  wilt  cast  a  shade  over 
the  glory  of  orthodoxy." 

And  it  is  said,  when  a  man  of  letters  was  ill  and  near  to 
death,  a  priest  was  attempting  to  unfold  to  him  the  joys  of 
paradise,  but  the  sick  man  interrupted  him,  saymg,  "  Speak 
to  me  no  more  about  it,  father,  however  pleasant  the  place 
may  be,  your  bad  style  would  disgust  me  with  it."  This 
seems,  no  doubt,  very  blasphemous,  but  the  satire  is  not 
without  its  justice  ;  I  know  how  many  have  chsdained  the 
learning  to  preach  ;  I  am,  as  I  have  said,  quite  aware  that 


1 7^  Illegitimate  Means, 

the  truth  and  the  life  are  of  the  first  magnitude,  but  then, 
too,  we  remember  and  apply  what  the  learned  John  Selden 
says  of  ceremony — "  It  keeps  up  all  things ;  it  is  hke  a 
penny  phial  to  some  rich  and  valuable  essence,  how  great 
the  difference,  but  break  your  phial  and  where  is  the  es- 
sence?" so  "we  have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels." 
But  because  the  thing  of  great  value  is  the  treasure,  let  us 
not  make  our  vessel  repulsive,  uncouth,  or  coarse  ;  nay, 
why  not  the  reverse  to  this  and  these  ? 

I  have  said,  therefore,  think  of  the  legitimate  means  of 
awakening  and  sustaining  the  interest  of  your  audience. 
The  vei-y  wording  of  my  text  implies  that  there  are  t/Zegiti- 
mate  means.  Everything  that  tends  to  lower  the  tone  of 
devotion  and  sacredness  is  illegitimate  ;  everything  that 
stirs  the  passions,  or  excites  the  cuiiosity,  or  the  passions 
without  quickenmg  the  conscience  is  illegitimate  ;  every- 
thing that  is  simply  secular,  and  does  not  relate  the  hearer 
to  the  life  to  come,  and  to  the  Saviour,  as  the  anchor  and 
centre  of  the  hfe  to  come,  is  illegitunate.  All  prettinesses, 
artificiahties — a  sort  of  pax)er  floral  wreath,  not  growing 
out  of,  but  stuck  on,  to  a  subject — all  these  are  illegitimate, 
and  all  illegitimate  means  will  in  the  end  be  unsuccessful 
means.  You  are  to  look  to  the  long  rmi,  and  take  coui'- 
age  and  capital  from  thence.  I  have  before  said,  fii'st,  let 
there  be  self-possession  ;  yes,  but  not  the  self-possession  of 
ignorance,  but  of  conscious  acquaintance  with  the  place, 
and  the  souls  m  it,  and  your  moral  furniture  and  its  fitness 
to  the  place  and  the  i^eople.  I  know  how  hard  this  is  to 
gain  ;  I  sympathize  with,  and  pay  homage  to,  the  tremulous 
nervousness  which  shrinks  and  recoils  fi'om  its  duty,  and 
yet  daringly  goes  forward  to  meet  it ;  perhaps  it  is  tliis 
temper  which  achieves  the  highest  things.  Best  natures 
fall  and  fail  sometimes — Robert  Hall  did.  I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  think  he  was  simply  a  fool,  and  despicable,  who 
announced  his  text — to  the  amazement  of  his  audience — 


On  Effective  Preacliing^  etc.  \n^ 

"  Peter  crew,  and  the  cock  went  out  and  wept  bitterly," 
and,  tiying  to  recover  himself,  only  gave  a  repetition  of  the 
same  wonderful  text,  "Peter  crew,"  &c.  And  that  other 
dehverance  of  a  yoimg  brother  was  almost  as  bad  ;  his 
text  announced,  ''He  maketh  the  dem  to  hear,  and  the 
duff  to  sx^eak — no,  no,  I  mean  the  deaf  to  speak,  and  the 
dumb  to  hear  " — it  was  a  new  version  of  the  deaf  to  hear, 
and  the  dumb  to  speak,  entirely  resulting  fi'om  the  ner- 
vousness of  the  brother.  And,  although  not  immediately 
in  the  train  of  my  remarks,  let  me  say,  you  must  gain  the 
confidence  of  your  hearers  ;  get  them  to  trust  you,  that  is 
the  grand  jDrehniinary  to  the  pastor's  pulpit  success.  And, 
how  hai'd  this  is !  You  will  not  rely  on  the  power  of  a 
stai-thng  sermon  ;  preaching,  says  one,  is  a  good  nail,  but 
practice  is  the  hammer  that  diives  it  straight  home  ;  that 
practice  must  be  youi*  spnpathy  with  yoiu'  audience,  and 
theirs  with  you. 

I  do  not  speak  of  evil  life,  and  the  confidence  to  be  gained 
by  the  negative  vii'tue  of  ceasing  to  do  evil,  although  you 
may  profitably  remember  what  Jeremy  Taylor  says  : 

"A  minister  of  c\dl  life  cannot  preach  with  that  fervor  and 
efficacy,  with  that  Ufe  and  spirit,  as  a  good  man  doc3.  For,  be- 
sides that  he  does  not  himself  understand  the  secrets  of  rehgion, 
and  the  private  inducements  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  sweetness  of 
internal  joy,  and  the  inexpressible  advantages  of  holy  peace ; 
besides  all  this,  he  cannot  lieartily  speak  of  all  he  knows.  lie 
hath  a  clog  at  his  foot,  and  a  gag  in  his  teeth.  There  is  a  fear, 
and  there  is  a  shame,  and  there  is  a  guilt,  and  a  secret  willing- 
ness that  the  things  were  not  true,  and  some  little  private  art.«j, 
to  lessen  his  own  consent,  and  to  take  off  the  asperities,  and 
consequent  trouble  of  a  clear  conviction." 

But  this  is  little — Gresley  wcU  says,  with  regard  to  3'our 
intercoui'se  with  the  world  and  its  amusements,  "It  mat- 
ters not  to  the  wolf  what  innocent  recreation  the  shepherd 
is  engaged  in,  if  he  is  not  tending  to  his  flock."    Oh,  there 


1 76  Bides  to  Fence  tlie  Pulpit. 

is  so  miicli  to  be  guarded  against.  But  I  have  no  time  to 
note  here  on  the  temper  and  conduct  of  hfe,  and  on  the 
whole  mode  and  manner  of  the  pulpit.  "  If  we  are  desir- 
ous to  do  execution,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  and  to  make 
our  way  through  difficulties,  we  must  pass  through  the 
Alps  with  lire  and  vinegar,  we  must  make  brisk  and  bold 
assaults  upon  sinners."  I  cannot  say  that  this  is  much  to 
my  admiration  ;  the  spmt  of  meekness  I  beheve  to  be  a 
powerful  spiiit  and  mighty  teacher,  and  I  admire  much 
more  the  language  of  dear  old  I>r.  Alexander  Waugh. 

"The  Good  Shepherd,"  he  says,  "mends — not  breaks— his 
reeds,  when  tbey  are  bruised.  I  have  seen  a  Highland  shepherd, 
on  a  sunny  brae,  piping  as  if  he  could  never  get  old,  his  flocks 
listening,  and  the  rocks  ringing  around ;  but  when  the  reed  of 
liis  pipe  became  hoarse,  he  had  not  jDatieuce  to  mend  it,  but 
broke  it,  and  threw  it  away  in  anger,  and  made  another.  Not 
so  our  Shepherd  ;  He  examines  and  tries,  and  mends  and  tunes 
the  bruised  spirit,  until  it  sings  sweetly  of  mercy  and  of  judg- 
ment, as  in  the  days  of  old." 

And  then  as  to  the  pulpii  Of  course  your  sermons  are 
to  be  your  own  ;  honestly  your  own,  wrought  out,  thought 
out,  s^Doken  out — ^your  own.  Short  of  this,  your  influence 
cannot  be  legitimate  ;  and  next,  being  so,  it  must  be  the 
result  of  your  oviai  clear  entrance  into  the  mind  of  your 
audience  by  thought  clearly  expressed.  I  have  already 
dwelt  on  these,  which  I  only  mention,  desmng  to  take  for 
granted  that  you  have  no  desu^e  to  obtain  entrance  into  the 
heart  and  mind  in  any  other  manner  ;  he,  who  does  so,  in 
a  real  and  sad  sense  "climbs  up  some  other  way." 

Many  orations  appear  to  be  very  striking,  to  have  many 
striking  passages  which  are  quite  useless.  There  are 
limitations  to  the  striking ;  there  is  the  striking  which  is 
quite  illegitimate.  Fence  all  your  pulpit  efforts  by  these 
six  iTdes,  which  should  each  be  a  law  to  you.  1st.  Have  a 
distinct  aim.     2nd.  Have   thoupfht.     Words   ai'e  but  the 


Oil  Effective  Preaching^  etc.  \yj 

dross  of  thought  ;  it  is  idle  to  spend  time  in  setting  forth 
costly  clothes  without  a  hving  body  and  hmbs.  Or,  hke 
the  mere  passing  empty  buckets  from  hand  to  hand,  it 
must  be  a  very  profitless  and  tedious  emploj-ment,  hardly 
worth  the  effort  of  seeking  to  do  elegantly.  3d.  Have 
unity,  not  mechanical  alone,  moral,  spiritual  4th.  Be 
earnest.  5th.  Be  natural.  6th.  Be  appropriate.  If  you 
regulate  your  speech  beneath  the  light  of  these  laws,  I 
may  leave  to  you  the  use  of  philosophy — rhetoric  excludes 
philosophy — and  I  may  leave  to  you  the  use  of  poetry, 
never  to  be  used  at  all,  the  rhetorician  says  ;  I  will  say 
never,  unless  when  it  overflows  the  soul,  certainly  not  by 
learning  little  pieces  of  poetiy  as  stucco-ornaments  for  yowx 
sermons.* 

1.  Again,  it  ought  to  be  remembered  vath  what  power  a 
text  will  sometimes  strike  the  key  to  a  chain  of  thoughts  and 
meditations  ;  a  well  selected  text  may  be  the  most  consider- 
able part  of  the  sermon,  and  the  Bible  furnishes  texts  for 
all  seasons,  for  every  kind  of  festivity,  warnings  for  every 
state,  order  of  sin  or  sorrow.  That  was  a  happy  text  that 
the  first  James  of  England  and  sixth  of  Scotland  heard  on 
his  arrival  in  London,  "James  1st  and  sixth,  a  double- 
minded  man  is  unstable  in  all  his  ways."  But  I  beheve  he 
never  heard  the  good  brother  w^ho  used  it  preach  any  more. 
The  text  was  too  happy,  and  I  daresay  the  sennon  was 
not  less  so.  And  this  reminds  me  that  some  men  have 
turned  the  Bible  to  sad  accoimt.  Thus  when  the  discus- 
sion about  inoculation  for  the  smaU-pox  raged  vehemently 
in  1722,  a  celebrated  orator  in  London  preached  a  sermon 
which  had  a  very  great  fame  here  and  in  America  ;  the 
text  was  fi'om  Job  xi,  7,  "  And  Satan  went  forth  and  smote 
him  with  boils,"  the  doctrine  of  which  discourse  was  that 

*  I  scarcely  need  refer  for  most  valuable  hints  to  that  well-known 
and  most  excellent  book,  "  Lectures  on  Ilomiletics  and  Preaching." 
By  Ebenezer  Porter,  D.D.,  Andover. 
8* 


178  General  Rules  about  Texts. 

Satan  was  tlie  first  inoculator.  Most  ample  are  the  illus- 
trations of  the  foolishness  of  preaching.  I  could  detain 
you  a  long  time  upon  such  topics,  I  have  collected  many 
pieces  giving  a  rich  furniture  in  this  way.  And  have  cited 
several  in  this  small  volume.  It  is  not  respectful  to  the 
Word  of  God  to  treat  it  thus.  Should  a  subject  be  chosen 
for  a  text,  or  a  text  for  a  subject  ?  True  it  has  been  said 
of  some  sermons  that  there  is  nothing  m  the  sermon  but 
the  text  to  remind  the  hearer  that  there  is  a  Bible.  The 
text  is  chosen  rather  from  homage  to  authority  and  usage 
of  society  than  fi'om  respect  to  the  sacred  Word  ;  and  as 
Dr.  Porter  says,  the  end  would  be  answered  as  well  if  the 
preacher  took  no  text ;  or  like  him  whom  Melancthon 
heard  preach  in  Paris,  who  took  one  from  the  Ethics  of 
Aristotle. 

2.  I  think  you  should  avoid  all  offedalion  and  peculiarity 
in  the  text.  This  surely  seems  unbecoming  the  dignity  of 
the  pulpit.  A  scrap,  a  word — vulgar  minds  indeed  admire 
the  sagacity  which  can  elicit  so  much  meaning  fi'om  a  text. 
Dr.  Campbell  mentions  one  who  chose  the  words,  "  A  bell 
and  a  pomegranate,  and  a  beU  and  a  pomegranate,"  as  the 
ground  of  a  discoiu'se  on  the  subject  that  faith  and  hoHness 
should  ever  accompany  each  other.  Steene  recommends 
that  when  the  preacher  is  much  at  a  loss  for  a  text  he  should 
take  "Parthians,  Medes,  and  Elamites,"  and  we  do  know 
some  who  have  ransacked  the  Bible  for  odd  words  and 
phrases.  This  is  a  glorying  self-conceit  rather  than  open- 
ing the  truth. 

3.  Remark  that  a  text  should  contain  complete  sense  in  itself. 
This  is  a  rule  often  violated  for  the  sake  of  point  and 
brevity. 

4.  A  text  should  express  a  complete  sense  of  the  sacred 
writers. 

5.  The  text  should  express  the  particular  sense  which 
constitutes  the  subject  of  tlie  discourse. 


On  Effective  Preacliing^  etc.  170 

6.  The  important  qnalit}-  is  simplicit}'. 

I  think  you  will  permit  me  to  remind  you  that  there  are 
a  number  of  texts  which  Luther  called  "Little  Bibles." 
"  God  so  loved  the  world,"  etc.  "  This  is  a  faithful  saying," 
etc.,  and  such  hke.  It  is  good  to  take  these,  and  what  a 
number  there  are.  I  am  often  amazed  at  the  number  of 
texts  in  the  Bible,  which  seem  to  include  the  whole  Gospel, 
the  whole  Bible.  I  often,  in  the  coui'se  of  preparing  for 
the  pulj)it,  say,  Ah,  here  is  another  of  Luther's  httle 
Bibles.  Well,  so  also  I  would  reimnd  you  with  Yinet  that 
there  are  in  the  language  of  the  Bible  a  certain  number  of 
words  which  may  be  called  Capital,  and  the  meaning  of 
which,  to  apprehend,  gives  a  master-key  to  the  Bible.  You 
must  enter  into  the  words,  for  they  are  the  signs  for  tilings, 
which,  to  understand,  give  the  whole  key  of  the  Christian 
system  ;  such  as  fear,  flesh,  soul,  heaH,  faith,  rigUeousness, 
undei^standing,  foolish,  light,  just,  good,  man,  wicked,  virtue, 
etc.  xAnd  I  do  thus  apologise  for  those  who  even  take  no 
more  than  one  of  these  words,  with  the  determination 
thoroughly  to  elucidate  it  to  the  j^eople.  Tou  are  to  take 
this  divine  and  spiritual  nomenclatiu-e,  and  make  it  apj^re- 
hensible  to  the  philosophy  of  the  people.  You  must  get 
through  the  external  sense  of  the  text,  as  I  have  already 
intunated.  The  difficulty  will  often  be  in  the  breaking  of 
the  external  sense,  without  reaUy  finding  the  true  internal. 
As  in  Quesnel,  on  that  text,  "  The  wise  men  returned  to 
their  country  by  another  way,"  observing  that  we  shall 
never  return  to  heaven  but  by  another  way  than  that  by 
which  we  departed  from  it !  It  has  been  truly  said  that 
the  Bible  seems  to  have  been  trifled  with  in  the  very  pro- 
portion in  which  it  has  been  venerated  ;  while  at  the  same 
time  I  also  admit  that  of  the  texts  of  the  Bible  many  of 
tliem  are  of  great  width.  We  may  deprecate  any  private 
interiDretation,  or  loose  and  arbitrary  significations,  and  at 
the  same  time  permit  tlic  mind  and  heart  to  feel  tlie  power 


1 80  Declamation  in  the  Pulpit 

of  suggestions  and  impressions  wliicli  yet  should  scarcely 
be  moulded  into  sennons. 

And  there  are  two  dangers  to  which  I  wish  to  address 
some  remarks,  for  the  pm-pose  of  limiting  the  illegiti- 
mate influences  which  some  speakers  attain  over  their 
audiences  ;  they  are  both  illustrations  of  the  striking  man- 
ner ;  first,  is  hiunor  in  the  pulpit  ;  second,  is  declamation 
in  the  pulpit.  What  are  the  limitations  of  humor  ?  The 
truthful  and  simple  natui'alness  of  Latimer,  the  droUery  of 
South,  and,  perhaj)s,  that  of  Rowland  Hill,  aU  show  us 
that  it  will  be  used ;  and,  moreover,  there  is  something 
about  it  frequently  so  charming,  so  fresh  of  hue,  so  adding 
to  the  hght  around  a  subject,  that  I  am  not  at  aU  disposed 
to  denounce  universally  the  use  of  humor.  But,  indeed, 
you  will  not  be  able  to  read  the  old  wnters,  who  thought 
their  own  thought  in  then*  own  way,  without  meeting  with 
these  happy  gleams  of  humor.  An  admirable  instance  too 
of  the  illustration  of  it  for  the  purpose  of  use,  is  Tucker's 
lAght  of  Nature  Pursued — a  most  suggestive  book,  while  I 
will  caution  you  against  the  theology.  But  the  last  thing 
I  would  wish  to  see  in  the  pulpit  would  be  a  mere  declaimer. 
Declamation  is  most  empty  work,  most  unprofitable  work. 
Yet  a  man  may  even  make  this  useful ;  but  he  must  be 
more  than  a  declaimer  to  be  anything  useful.  Even  m 
your  declamation,  which  I  think  jom  wiU,  and  must,  as 
young  men,  indulge,  let  there  be  thoughtfulness,  which  is 
more.  Some  preachers  will,  in  the  veiy  heat  and  tempest 
of  their  declamation,  dart  in  a  sentence  which  arrests  like 
lightning,  and  so  they  move  on.  De.vn  Young's  sermons 
seem  to  me  an  illustration  of  this — I  do  not  mean  the  poet 
Young — I  remember  he  exclaims  in  one,  "  The  soul  of  man, 
like  common  natui'e,  admits  no  vacuum.  If  God  be  not 
there,  mammon  must  be  ;  and  it  is  as  impossible  to  serve 
neither,  as  to  serve  both.  If  a  man  forsake  the  fountain  of 
Living  Waters,  yet  he  cannot  forsake  his  thirst,  and  there- 


Or  Effective  Preaddng^  etc.  \  g  i 

fore  he  lies  under  the  necessity  of  hewing  out  broken  cis- 
terns to  himself,  and  tliis  makes  the  connection  infallible 
between  indevotion  and  moral  idolatry  ;  between  the 
neglecting  God's  worship  and  the  worshipping  the  crea- 
ture." Again,  he  stays  himself  in  the  heat  of  one  of  his  fine 
words,  *'  Remember,  that  God  is  as  near  to  oui'  mouths 
when  A7e  speak,  as  that  man  who  leans  his  ear  to  our 
whispers  ;  He  is  as  near  to  actions  when  we  are  in  secret, 
as  they  are  whom  we  admit  into  our  confidence  ;  He  is  as 
near  to  oiu-  thoughts  when  we  pm-pose,  wish,  or  design 
anything,  as  is  oiu'  own  soul  that  conceives  them."  Put 
things  like  these  into  your  declamation,  and  your  words 
will  be  as  effective  as  the  hghtning.  Agam,  in  declamation, 
beware  of  sentiment.  Audiences  have  a  keen  eye  for  sen- 
timent, and  to  most  men  sentiment  is  not  afiecting,  it  is 
ludicrous, — sentimental  words  are  most  ludicrous.  There 
is  a  great  danger  in  all  declamation,  that  is  mere  sentiment ; 
that  is,  unrealized  prettiness  and  tinselly  verbiage.  I  again 
say,  that  for  any  legitimate  hold  over  yom*  audiences,  you 
must  obtain,  by  fair  means,  an  entrance  into  the  soul — 
into  the  mind ;  then,  once  there,  you  may  kindle  it,  seek 
to  inflame  it.  You  must  not  seek  to  obtain  an  imfair 
mastery  by  tossing  your  fii-eworks  around  it  before  you 
have  entered  it.  Dr.  Yoimg's  NirjM  Tlioughls  is  as  fine  a 
piece  of  declamation  as  an;yi:hing  in  oui'  language — and 
often  there  is  more  than  declamatory  fervor — but  you 
would  not  hke  to  produce  simply  the  impression  he  pro- 
duced on  Dr.  Beattie.  "  ^Vlien  one  begins,"  saj^s  Beattie, 
"  to  find  pleasure  in  sighing  over  Dr.  Young's  Niglit  Tlioughts 
in  a  comer,  it  is  time  to  shut  the  book,  and  return  to  the 
company.  I  gi'ant  that  while  the  mind  is  in  a  certain  state, 
those  gloomy  ideas  give  an  exquisite  dehght  ;  but  their 
effect  resembles  that  of  intoxication  upon  the  body ;  they 
may  produce  a  temporary  fit  of  feverish  exultation,  but 
qualms,  and  weakened  nerves,  and  depression  of  spiiits, 


1 82  lllegltiniate  Declamation. 

are  the  consequence.  I  have  great  respect  for  Dr.  Yotmg, 
both  as  a  man,  and  as  a  poet.  I  used  to  devoui'  his  NigU 
ThougJits  with  a  satisfaction  not  unlike  that  which,  in  my 
younger  years,  I  have  found  in  walking  alone  in  a  chui'ch- 
yard,  or  on  a  wild  mountain  by  the  moon  at  midnight. 
"WTien  I  first  read  Young,  my  heart  was  broke  to  think  of 
the  poor  man's  afflictions.  Afterwards  I  took  into  my  head, 
that  where  there  was  so  much  lamentation,  there  could  not 
be  excessive  suffering,  and  I  could  not  help  appl}dng  to 
him,  sometimes,  those  lines  of  a  song, 

'  Believe  me  the  Shepherd  but  feigns : 
He's  wretched,  to  show  he  has  wit.' 

On  talking  with  some  of  Dr.  Young's  friends,  in  England, 
I  have  since  found  that  my  conjectures  were  right,  for  that 
while  he  was  composing  the  'Night  Thoughts,'  he  was 
really  as  cheerful  as  any  man."  This  must  always  be  the 
revenge  the  feelings  take  for  an  illegitimate  mastery  over 
them.  Do  your  work  so  that  those  who  are  impressed 
shall  not  ever  after  be  ashamed  of  the  impressions  you 
have  produced.  And  yet,  it  is  right  that  you  should  seek 
to  move  the  feehngs  ;  it  is  to  be  a  matter  of  study  with  you 
hoiv  you  may  judiciously  avail  yourselves  of  those  nice 
points  of  detail  which,  thrown  into  a  picture,  not  merely 
heighten  the  effect,  but,  w4iich  wHl,  as  by  the  sudden  stroke, 
cleave  and  an-est  the  mind.  To  this  end  the  painters  will 
teach  you  ;  look  at  the  paintings  of  Wilkie,  or  those  of 
Hogarth  ;  the  end  of  both  may  be  legitunately  yours,  only 
one  intends  to  rouse  youi'  tears,  the  other  your  scorn  ;  the 
detail  does  it,  but  then  not  detail  for  the  sake  of  detail,  and 
not  one  particular  which  does  not  give  effect  to  the  whole. 
And  I  have  said  much  depends  on  style,  too.  Even  Jer- 
emy Taylor  has  a  singularly  disgusting  passage — 

We  must  needs  die  ;  we  must  lie  our  heads  down  on  the  turf, 
and  entertain  creeping  things  in  the  cells  and  little  chambers  of 


On  Effective  Preaching^  etc.  183 

our  eyes.  The  Ijcauty  of  the  face,  and  dishonors  of  the  belly, 
the  diseerning  head,  and  the  servile  feet,  the  thinking  heart,  and 
working  hand,  the  eyes  and  the  guts  together  shall  be  crushed 
into  the  confusion  of  a  heap,  and  dwell  with  creatures  of  an 
equivocal  production,  with  worms  and  ser2)ents,  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  our  bones,  in  a  house  of  dirt  and  darkness. 

And  when  all  is  done  you  will  have  occasion  to  watch 
over  your  gains  in  learning,  lest  that  which  might  have  been 
blessed  and  useful  becomes  a  mischief  and  a  snare.  I  have 
read,  in  a  very  old  WTiter,  of  a  company  of  apes  that  had 
gotten  a  glow-worm  amongst  them,  upon  which  they  heap- 
ed sticks  and  other  combustible  matter  ;  and  laying  their 
heads  together,  blew  with  all  their  might,  hoping  to  make 
the  little  shining  particle  to  Idndle  iuto  a  flame  ;  but  they 
did  not  increase  the  flame,  or  waiTQ,  or  enlighten  them- 
selves ;  they  extinguished  and  killed  the  glow-worm.  Per- 
haps we  can  all  make  the  application.  We  are  not  all 
gifted,  as  was  the  blessed  Saiat  Domingo,  who,  when  the 
Devil  teased  him  in  the  shape  of  a  flea  skipping  upon  his 
book,  found  himself  fixed  by  the  saint  as  a  mark  where  he  left 
off,  and  was  so  used  through  the  volume.  Or,  as  on  that  other 
occasion  when  the  wicked  Scratch  came  like  a  monkey  to 
tease  him  and  was  cooly  told  by  Domingo  to  hold  the  candle 
and  let  it  burn  down  to  the  snuff,  very  much  to  Scratch's  an- 
noyance. But,  one  night  the  saint  found  the  mcked  one 
in  the  Dormitory  reading  a  paper  by  the  light  of  the  lamp 
with  great  glee,  and  the  following  dialogue  took  jilace  ;  said 
the  saint — "  Beast,  what  are  you  doing ?  "  "I  am  doing 
my  business,"  said  the  evil  one,  "  laboring  in  my  vocation 
in  which  I  always  gain."  "  Cui'sed  be  thy  gain  !  what  can 
you  gain  in  the  Dormitoiy,  are  not  the  religious  all  asleep  ? 
Is  there  a  will  in  sleep  that  can  aid  thy  malice  ?  "  "  I  gain 
much,  I  always  disturb  them  by  all  manner  of  means  ;  some 
I  keeiD  awake  that  they  may  lie  a-bed  and  sleep  when  it  is 
choir  time,  or  go  there  so  sleepy  as  to  yvivra  over  the  ser- 


184     '^'^^^  Wm  Advice  of  an  Old  Farmer, 

vice,  and  then,  if  they  let  me,  I  do  worse  there."  "Why, 
what  mischief  dost  thou  do  in  the  Church  ?  "  "  More  than 
in  the  Dormitory,  I  make  them  go  late  and  against  their 
inclination,  and  with  a  wish  the  job  was  over."  "  And  in 
the  Refectory  ?  "  "  Oh,  there  are  few  whom  I  do  not  get 
at  there,  some  I  make  eat  too  httle,  so  that  they  weaken 
themselves  till  they  are  not  able  to  do  their  dut}^ ;  others 
too  much."  "  And  what  in  the  room  where  conversation  is 
allowed  ?  "  "  Oh,  that  is  my  own  room — there  I  make 
them  talk  about  the  news,  and  joke,  and  laugh,  and  grum- 
ble." "And  in  the  Chapter  House  (where  confession  is 
made  and  penance  done)  ?  "  "  That  is  my  Hell,  there  all 
I  do  is  undone,  half  an  hour  loses  me  the  labor  of  years," 
and  so  Scratch  disappeared.  Those  old  saints  tell  strange 
stories  ;  and,  perhaps,  we  do  not  think  so  much  of  confes- 
sion cells  and  penances  ;  but,  we  also,  may  try  and  watch 
our  spirits  so  that  with  us  our  studies  and  apparatus  do 
not  hui-t  or  hinder,  instead  of  advancing  us. 

I  think  I  may  not  inappropriately  close  by  reminding 
you  of  a  Tvise  agricultural  saying,  which  I  have  somewhere 
met  with  from  a  sage  old  farmer  who  recently  remarked 
that  "  he  fed  his  land  before  it  was  hungry,  rested  it  before 
it  was  weary,  and  weeded  it  before  it  was  foul."  I  have 
seldom,  if  ever,  seen  so  much,  I  will  not  say  of  agricultui^al, 
•Nvisdom  condensed  into  a  single  sentence.  I  have  seldom 
seen  a  sentence  which  so  accurately  expressed  what,  for  the 
purposes  of  usefulness,  eveiy  preacher  should  do. 


Pulpit    Monog 


R  A  P  HS 


III. — Charles  Spurgeon, 


HE    Cliui^ch  has  liad  gi-eat  preachers,  and  wo 
shall  not  suiDpose  that  the  minister  of  the  Metro- 
l^ohtan  Tabernacle  possesses  the  amazing  sj^len- 
dor  and  pathetic  eloquence  of  Chrysostom,  or  the 
subduing  accents  of  Whitefield.     The  achievements  of  the 
gi-eat  fiiars  of   the  IMiddle  Ages,  Francis  of  Assisi,  Ber- 
nardine  of   Montefeltro,  and  Bemardine  of   Sienna,   and 
others,  who  preached  in  immense  squares  to  twenty  or  fifty 
thousand  people,  for  the  honor  of  a  visit  fi-om  whom,  to 
hear  them  preach,  great  cities  contended  ;  whose  presence 
closed  all  the  shops,  and  courts  of  justice,  suspended  all  the 
functions  of   ti'ade,  and  who  usually,  after  their  sermons, 
presided  over  the  immense  bonfires,  into  which  theii'  con- 
verted and  panic-stricken  auditors  cast  theii'  dice-boxes  and 
tables,  impm-e  books  and  pictm-es,  their  fashionable  or  H- 
centious  di'csses,  and  who  left  on  theu'  departm*e  often, 
some  cross  inscribed  with  the  name  of  Jesus,  or  huge  stone 
pulpit,  erected  by  the  city  in  grateful  remembrance  of  the 
uses  of  the  visit.     ]\Ir.  Spurgeon  has  adch'csscd  his  audi- 
ences of  twenty  and  twenty-five  thousand  people,  but  wo 
know  of  nothing  m  his  instance,  or  in  the  histoiy  of  the 
modem  pulpit,  bearing  comparison  with  those  old  achieve- 
ments ;  yet,  fi*om  other  aspects,  the  rise  and  progi'css  of 

(i80 


i86  An  Illustration  of  Extraordinary  Success. 

the  missions  of  the  MetropoHtan  Tabei-nacle  are  even  still 
more  remarkable,  a  fact  quite  unique  in  the  whole  history 
of  the  Church.  It  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  never,  in 
any  period  of  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church,  did  any 
man  rise  and  hold  m  sustained  attention  and  active  Chris- 
tian useful  labor  a  weekly  congregation,  certainly  not  num- 
bering less  than  from  five  to  six  thousand  persons,  with  no 
popular  prestige,  no  music  to  aid,  no  robes  to  give  effect, 
no  ceremonials  of  service — plain,  simple,  unadorned.  Then 
the  seiTQons,  "  seven  hundred  and  twenty-seven,"  we  per- 
ceive, is  the  last  number  of  the  last  volume.  These  ser- 
mons, translated  into  the  principal  languages  of  Europe, 
and  some,  we  beheve,  into  the  dialects  of  Asia  ;  cu'culating 
largely  throughout  the  United  States,  thi'oughout  the  Eng- 
lish Colonies ;  and  the  preacher,  after  all  this  extraordin- 
ary achievement,  after  having  em'olled  in  his  chui'ch  up- 
wards of  three  thousand  members,  having  founded  his  col- 
leo-e,  and  poured  his  young  followers — themselves  a  sort  of 
rough,  earnest,  Protestant-preacliing  friars — over  the  whole 
country :  after  having  been  abused  and  assailed  on  every 
hand,  and  having  received  and  worn  the  still  more  fatal  and 
dangerous  commendations  and  flatteries  of — perhaps  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say — milhons,  still  at  this  houi-  not  far  be- 
yond the  years  of  youth,  still  in  the  years  of  early  man- 
hood. We  are  not  aware  that  the  records  of  any  chiu'ch 
or  sect  or  of  all  Church  history,  furnish  an  analogous  in- 
stance to  such  a  phenomenon  ;  and  the  fact  that  he  ap- 
peared at  a  time  when  the  i)ulpit  was  fast  asleep,  and  had 
almost  forgotten  its  mission,  and  the  other  fact  that  his 
success  may  be  greatly  attributed  to  his  appearance  in  an 
age  so  thronged  and  crowded  as  ours  is  in  this  country, 
are  not  so  satisfactory  as  to  the  cause  of  his  amazing  pop- 
ularity as  to  make  it  needless  to  inqmre  a  little,  with  these 
substantial  volumes  before  us,  into  the  oiigin  of  so  gTeat 
a  fame,  and  wide-spread  usefulness. 


Fuljplt  Monographs :  Cliarles  Spurgeon.    \  87 

"How  do  you  account  for  it  all? "  said  a  minister  to  me 
the  other  day.  And  I  replied,  "  Have  you  read  the  vol- 
umes of  sermons  ?  "  "  Who  can  wade  thi'ough  all  those  ?  " 
he  said.  And  I  rephed,  "  True,  but  if  you  would  wade 
through  them — and  such  a  task  to  a  minister  would  be  not 
a  difficult,  but  a  very  instructive  exercise — you  would  find 
in  ;Mr.  Sj^urgeon's  sennons,  that  one  of  the  striking  ele- 
ments of  theii'  greatness  and  strength  is  thoii'  average  pow- 
er ;  of  coiu'se,  some  sermons  are  better  than  others,  some 
are  more  eloquent,  passionate,  vehement,  but  there  is  an 
average  of  strength  and  raciness  very  delightful,  also  very- 
astonishing,  but  which  goes  far  to  explain  the  staid  and 
sustained  attractiveness  of  the  preacher."  It  has  come 
about,  fi'om  some  cause  or  other,  that  The  Times  newspaper 
is  scarcely  a  more  acknowledged  fact  than  Charles  Spur- 
geon ;  and  for  myself,  feeling  it  impossible  that  scores  of 
thousands  of  i)eoi:)le  can  go  on  being  mistaken  for  long 
yeai's  together,  I  am  disposed  rather  to  look  quietly-  at  the 
fact,  and  to  spend  a  httle  time  in  inquh-ing  into  its  cause 
how  it  is  that  the  thousands  thi'ong  week  by  week,  and  that 
those  who  hear  the  most  constantly  are  the  best  satisfied  ? 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  perhaps  first,  and  before  all 
things,  the  voice  accounts  for  much — a  voice  of  astonishing 
compass,  a  voice,  the  waves  fi'om  which  roll  with  astonish- 
ing ease  over  the  most  immense  company,  full,  sweet  and 
clear — clear  and  ringing  as  a  bell — a  voice  like  the  man  and 
the  matter,  independent  of  most  nervous  impressions,  all 
nervous  agitations.  It  is  a  clarion  of  a  voice  ;  other  voices 
of  orators  have  pierced  us  more,  have  possessed  more  ac- 
cent, have  been  able  to  whisper  better,  but  we  never  knew 
nor  conceived  a  voice  with  such  thundrous  faculty.  I  have 
called  it  a  tmmpet,  and  better  still,  a  beU  ;  it  is  not  a  per- 
fect i^cal,  but  its  tones  roll  on,  there  is  no  exhaustion  ;  the 
tones  ai'e  not  many,  but  they  are  full  and  sweeping,  and 
they  give  the  idea  of  a  gi'cat,  fully-informed,  and  immense- 


1 88  His  Voice. 

\y  capacious  will  and  nature.  !Mr.  Spurgeon  might  possess 
many  of  liis  mental  attributes,  but,  manifestly,  this  power 
of  being  easily  heard,  of  always  striking  the  light  pitch, 
so  that  he  compasses  immense  assembhes,  is  one  great  ele- 
ment of  success  in  holding  the  attention  of  masses  of 
people.  It  is  an  old  idea,  and  a  very  true  one,  we  beheve, 
that  the  voice  is  the  man,  as  the  voice  is  so  the  soul — a  full 
voice  is  a  fuU  nature.  The  last  achievement  of  Mr.  Spur- 
geon will  be  regarded  by  many  as  the  most  wonderful  of  aU 
in  his  early  but  extraordinary  career.  Whatever  the  ca- 
pacities of  the  Agricultural  Hall  of  Islington  may  be,  and 
its  minimum  of  12,000,  or  its  maxunum  of  20,000,  auditors, 
unquestionably  the  Church  notes,  in  its  history,  very  few 
instances  of  preachers  able  to  attract  and  hold  in  attention 
so  mighty  a  mass.  Tme,  audiences  grow  like  avalanches, 
and  as  fame  grows,  the  means  of  sustaining  fame  also 
gi-ow.  But  the  greatest  of  the  preachers  the  Church  has 
known,  such  as  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  Hall,  Chalmers, 
or  Irving,  however  the  j)assion  of  their  accents  might  have 
been  desired,  and  the  majesty  or  music  of  their  eloquence 
would  have  found  themselves  as  foiled  by  their  own  voice, 
as  a  silver  bell  on  the  mast  of  a  vessel  in  the  roar  of  a 
storm,  in  immense  masses  ;  the  measured  cadences,  the 
swing  and  toll,  the  melodious  roar,  if  we  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, of  Mr.  Si)urgeon's  voice,  rises  rather  like  the  fa- 
bled Inchcai^e  bell,  tolling  highest  and  deepest  when  the 
waves  and  winds  were  at  their  loudest.  It  may  be,  as  I 
have  imphed  it  is,  IMr.  Spui'geon's  least  attribute,  but  it  is 
that  without  which  he  would  have  possessed  all  his  other 
attributes  in  vain,  for  the  immense  influence  they  possess 
and  wield,     We  come  to  the  sermons  themselves. 

The  travollmg  over  his  twelve  volumes  of  sermons  as- 
tonished me  ;  and  yet  they  are  only,  if  they  are,  a  decimal 
of  his  public  talk.  Richness  of  his  owai  order  is  in  them 
to  profusion.     They  form  but  one  weekly  sermon.     Of  ex- 


Pulpit  Mono(]rapli% :  CJtarles  Spurgeon.    189 

positions  at  Bible-classes,  of  Thursday  and  Sabbath  even- 
ing discourses,  of  those  delightful  talkings  about  the  chap- 
ter fead  in  the  service,  never  criticism,  perhajDS  scarcely 
expositions,  but  full  of  suggestive  jets  of  speech  ;  of  all 
this  we  have  no  hint.  Mr.  Spurgeon  is  evidently  a  bom 
preacher — absorbs  mto  his  mind  readily  all  that  he  sees, 
reads,  or  hears,  and  talks  it  all  forth  again  with  amazing 
fulness  and  freshness.  His  memoiy,  that  wondrous  assim- 
ilative power  which,  indeed,  constitutes  the  soul,  is  some- 
thing prodigious.  It  is  not  difficult  to  him  to  talk  at  any 
time,  to  any  length,  although  his  wisdom  has  always  been 
showTi  in  the  moderation  with  which  he  has  taxed  the  time 
and  patience  of  his  audiences.  This  talking  power  is  an- 
other reason  of  his  great  success.  It  has  precluded,  in  his 
case,  the  necessity  of  great  preparation,  which,  however 
splendid  may  have  been  its  results  in  many  eminent  preach- 
ers, is  always  a  token  of,  or  a  preparation  to,  remoteness 
from  an  audience,  where  it  is  not  a  sign,  as  it  more  fre- 
quently is,  of  the  poverty  and  shallow^iess  of  the  stream 
from  which  the  preacher  fills  his  vessel.  Mr.  SiDUi'geon's 
sermons,  printed  or  not,  we  know  to  be  comparatively  im- 
promptu, i  e.,  ho  is  in  fact  always  prepaiing  ;  texts  and 
thoughts  are  always  coming ;  and  the  opportunities  with 
them  for  binding  them  into  sheaves.  The  waters  of  expe- 
rience are  always  flowing,  and  he  is  always  tilhng,  There 
are  seasons,  of  course,  hours — perhaps  even  on  the  Satur- 
day— a  day,  for  the  receiving,  remembering,  and  marshall- 
ing into  order ;  but  it  is  in  that  infinite  fulness  of  ready 
talk,  that  copiousness  of  words  reflecting  moods,  illustra- 
tions, homely  provcrljs,  household  usages,  anecdotes,  never 
far  removed  fi*om  the  knowledge  and  ordinary  sense  of  the 
people,  that  we  find  the  second  great  cause  of  his  fame. 

No  man  can  do  a  very  extensive  and  world-wide  mental 
work  to  whom  it  is  a  hard  and  painful  thmg  to  prepare 
and  compose.     Rapidity  and  facihty,  spontaneity  and  va- 


igo   liapidltfj  and  Facility — Maries  of  Genius. 

riety  have  ever  been  the  marks  of  genius.  Socrates  was 
always  ready ;  the  fecimdity  of  Plato  is  remarkable  ;  the 
works  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  would  astonish  us 
by  theu'  innumerableness  if  we  did  not  know  that  it  is  a 
condition  of  the  soul's  perfection  that  it  is  always  itself, 
always  at  home  ;  that  ito  exist  is  to  go  forth,  that  to  the 
measui-e  of  its  power,  and  its  perfectness  in  its  own  region, 
is  its  incessancy  and  activity.  The  stamp  of  genius  always 
bears  this  mark  of  infinite  readiness  and  manifoldness  ;  to 
talk  incessantly  is  not  always  to  talk  plainly ;  Coleridge, 
we  suppose,  in  his  wonderful  conversations,  rolled  along  a 
dreamy  sea  of  sound.  There  is  something  attractive,  and 
even  delightful,  in  hearing  a  full  and  resistless  talker  flow- 
ing on,  even  when  we  do  not  thoroughly  comprehend,  or. 
perhaps,  nearly  comprehend  what  he  means,  or  w^hat  he 
says.  A  f  uU  soul  is  very  charmhag  and  attractive,  and  when 
the  cadences  of  the  voice  are  mystical  and  dreamy,  and  the 
words  arc  gorgeous  and  suggestive,  we  can  listen  even  as 
we  hsten  to  rich  soj^ranoes,  to  the  trill  of  nightingales  and 
larks,  although  no  words  reach  us,  and  we  have  no  present 
idea  beyond  that  of  pleasiu'e.  This,  however,  would  not 
be  sufficient  to  hold  beneath  its  spell  immense  and  imcul- 
tm'ed  congregations,  however  refined  taste  and  exquisite 
sensibility  might  be  dehghted.  Nor  am  I  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  maldng  any  such  concessions  or  ex^^lanations  on 
behalf  of  IVIr.  Spurgeon  ;  for  a  third  element  of  his  power 
I  take  to  be  that  he  is  not  more  extensively  heard  than  un- 
derstood. His  words  have  no  jjeculiar  selectness  of  subtle 
and  charming  propriety  like  that  which  pleases  so  much  in 
the  masters  of  melodious  composition.  Twelve  years  since, 
in  a  paper  I  wi'ote  upon  him,  I  likened  his  style  to  that  of 
Wilham  Cobbett.  The  likeness  would  be  still  more  ajDpo- 
site  now  ;  it  is  a  level  style  on  the  whole,  though,  of  coui'se, 
we  are  prepared  to  note  great  exceptions  ;  it  is  a  thorough- 
ly EngUsh  style,  it  rolls,  yet  the  sentences  are  never  long 


Pulpit  Monogrcvplis:  Charles  Sjmrgcon.    \  g  i 

— they  never  will  be  where  the  wheels  of  the  mind  arc 
running  swiftly,  and  the  fui'uace  of  the  soul  is  hot.  Quiet, 
sweet,  contemplative  sxm-its,  hke  Jeremy  Taylor,  who  wrote 
his  sermons  for  drawing-rooms,  and  the  private  chapeLs  of 
country  mansions  ;  thoughtful,  but  uneamest  time-servers 
like  South — thoiigh  he  illustrates  to  us  how  striking  and 
telling  he  could  make  his  sentences  when  he  had  any  bul- 
Ijdng  or  coarseness  to  do  with  that  renegade  tongue  of  his 
— preachers  like  Barrow,  who  chd  not  wi'ite  his  sermons  to 
preach  at  aU,  but  as  exercises  for  the  study,  or  if  preached, 
as  we  know,  expected  his  audience  to  listen  for  thi-ee  or 
four  hours  ;  preachers  such  as  these,  who  are  not  especially 
enkindled  themselves  in  the  pulpit  and  who  have  not  upon 
their  souls  the  determination  to  keep  then-  audiences  ahve 
and  awake,  do  not  break  up  their  words  and  sentences. 
There  is  all  the  difference  in  theii-  style  and  such  a  style  as 
that  of  AVilham  Cobbctt  or  Charles  Spui'geon  as  there  is 
between  an  Atlantic  and  a  Pacific  wave.  The  long,  peace- 
ful, measured  roll  of  the  one  is  very  different  to  the  shaip 
and  rocking  sui'ge  and  clash  of  the  other.  They  are  both 
seas  and  waves ;  but  for  a  sti'ong  excitement,  for  keeping  a 
soul  alive,  thoughtful,  intense,  and  up  to  the  hstener's  mark, 
and  as  indicating  the  real  life  of  the  preacher  himself 
in  the  place  where  you  expect  him  to  be  alive,  in  his 
pulj^it,  and  among  the  joeople,  it  seems  an  inchsi^ensablo 
requisite  that  his  words  should  fall  into  rapid  ti'ansforma- 
tions.  Perhaps  in  that  case,  he  may  not,  hke  the  great 
names  we  have  quoted,  serve  the  brooch ng  spirit  so  well  in 
its  study ;  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  what  consti- 
tutes a  preacher  is  his  power  to  gather,  and  to  hold  the 
people  interested  while  he  speaks  ;  to  use  not  select,  but 
average  words  ;  to  meet  average  and  every-day  moods.  I 
have  heard  of  jireachers  who  have  addressed  themselves  to 
the  two  or  three,  the  half  dozen  cultivated  and  very  thought- 
ful persons  in  then  audience.     It  is  a  common,  but  a  great 


10  2  Addressing  the  Average  HiiTnanity  of  Man, 

mistako  ;  Cliiist  did  not  so  ;  it  is  a  practice  which  must 
ensure  the  defeat  of  the  preacher.  Much  wiser  of  the  two 
was  thai  preacher  who  always  selected  the  man  whom  he 
thought  the  most  stupid  in  his  congregation,  and  deter- 
mined to  use  such  a  variety  of  plain  words,  such  a^imble 
recurrence  of  level,  ajoposite,  easily-understood  illustra- 
tions, such  a  succession  of  appeals  to  his  obtuse  conscience, 
that  he  should  be  left  no  loojyhole  of  escape.  A  thorough- 
ly well-informed  and  furnished  nature,  speaking  to  the  low- 
est, will  be  sure  to  touch  the  highest ;  millions  who  are  not 
able  to  see  and  feel  all  the  things  in  the  14th,  15  th,  and 
16th  chapters  of  John,  di'ink  in  every  word  of  the  parable 
of  the  Prodigal  Son,  and  it  has  long  been  noticed  as  a  cir- 
cumstance about  the  beautiful  village  sermons  of  Augustus 
Hare,  that  while  admii-ably  fitted  in  every  sentence  to  in- 
struct peasants  to  whom  they  were  delivered,  they  informed 
men  of  culture  and  taste  ;  and  of  Mr.  Spui'geon  it  is  re- 
markable that  while  the  masses  of  the  rudest  and  most 
uninformed  throng  romid  Mm,  he  numbers  in  his  church  ar- 
tists, men  of  the  richest  taste,  and  has  had  the  personal 
fi'iendship  of,  and  a  delighted  listener  in,  the  greatest  mas- 
ter hving  of  a  glowing,  gorgeous,  and  rich  English  style, 
John  Ruskin.  It  arises  from  the  reasons  we  have  indicat- 
ed ;  for  a  conscience  earnest,  burning  and  impressed  to 
aim  at  truth,  at  conscience,  at  what  is  supposed  to  be  most 
ordinary  in  human  natui'e,  is  to  reach  that  which  is  com- 
mon to  all,  and  interestmg  to  all  the  tnily  human  in  man. 
All  this  belongs  to  style,  to  the  combination  of  words,  their 
fitness,  ai:>positeness  and  power.  IMr.  Sx^m-geon  illustrates 
the  proverbial  axiom  of  rhetoric,  "  The  style  is  the  man." 
Thus  we  have  seen,  we  think,  that  the  lower  reasons  for  the 
immense  following  he  has  obtained  are  substantial  and  na- 
tural ;  we  are  not  sui*prised  at  it.  Tiu'ning  to  the  things  we 
meet  with  in  the  sermons  themselves,  we  find  other  reasons  ; 
looking  thi'ough  his  volume  of  sermons  we  meet  with  what. 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Charles  Spurgeon.    1 9  3 

from  what  we  have  said,  oui-  readers  will  expect  we  should 
find  ;  a  teeming  mind  will  be  a  fresh  mind,  there  is  gi'eat 
originahty  here,  origmality  in  the  selection  of  texts,  and 
originahty  in  their  mode  of  treatment. 

I  have  referred  especially  to  Mr.  Spurgeon's  mode  of  di- 
vision. Thus  we  have  The  Lord  tJw  Liljeralor,  from  the  text, 
"  The  Lord  looseth  the  prisoners."  The  text  suggested  to 
the  preacher  to  go  through  the  con-idors  of  the  great 
world-prison  in  which  prisoners  were  confined. 

I.  The  common  prison — the  ward  of  sin. 
II.  The  solitary  cell — the  place  of  penitence,  where  was  a  se- 
cret spring,  called  faith,  which,  if  a  man  could  touch,  he  could 
go  forth. 

III.  The  silent  cell,  where  he  met  with  people  who  could  not 
pray. 

IV.  The  cell  of  ignorance. 
V.  The  prison  of  habit. 
VI.  The  hard-labor  room. 
VII    The  low  dungeon  of  despondency. 
VIII.  The  inner  prison,  the  hold  of  despair. 
IX.  The  devil's  torture-chamber 
X.  The  condemned  cell. 

Ingeniousness  is  the  characteristic  of  most  of  Mr.  Spur- 
geon's di\dsions.  Ingeniousness,  which  determines  to  tra- 
vel thi'ough  an  the  words  or  syllables  of  a  text,  and  make 
each  yield  a  variety  of  suggestions  to  his  hearera 

Sometimes  his  mode  of  preaclnng  has  a  sjoecial  singular- 
ity. /  have  drmcd  is  a  sermon  wdth  seven  texts — and  yet 
but  one.     It  repeats  itself  seven  times  in  the  Scriptures. 

I.  The  hardened  sinner — Pharaoh — says,  ''I  have  sinned." 
II.  The  same  confession  is  made  by  the  double-minded  man, 
Balaam — "  I  have  sinned." 

III.  The  insincere  man,  Saul — "I  have  sinned." 

IV.  The  doubtful  penitent — Achan. 

V.  It  is  the  expression  of  the  repentance  of  desi)air— Judas. 

SECOND    SLRICS.        0 


1 94         Singular  Maries  of  Originality, 

VI.  Also  of  the  repentance  of  the  saint — Job. 
VII.  It  is  the  blessed  confession  of  the  iDrodigal. 

Sucb  is  the  outline  of  the  sermon  with  seven  texts.  One 
of  his  sermons  is  headed,  War !  War !  War !  The  text, 
"Fight  the  Lord's  Battles."  The  third  head  is  devoted  to 
the  reading  the  articles  of  war,  the  regulations  of  the  code 
martial — which  are  these  : 

Regulation  I.     No  communication  or  union  with  the  enemy. 

II.  No  quarter  to  be  given  or  taken. 

III.  No  weapons  or  ammunition  taken  from  the  enemy  are  to 
be  used  by  Emmanuers  soldiers,  but  are  to  be  utterly  burned  by 
fire. 

IV.  No  fear,  trembling,  or  cowardice. 

V.  No  slumbering,  rest,  ease,  or  surrender. 

Tben  there  follows  seven  postures  for  the  Christian  sol- 
dier. 

I.  Down  upon  both  knees,  hands  uj),  and  eyes  up. 
II.  Feet  fast,  hands  still,  eyes  up. 

III.  Quick  march  ;  continually  going  forward. 

IV.  Going  through  Vanity  Fair — eyes  shut,  ears  shut,  heart 
shut. 

V.  Feet  firm,  sword  in  hand,  eyes  open,  watch  every  feint 
the  enemy  makes,  and  watch  your  opportunity  to  let  fly  at  him, 
sword  in  hand. 

VI.  Hands  wide  open,  heart  wide  open,  helping  our  breth- 
ren. 

VII.  Patient  waiting.  Go  home  and  put  yourselves  through 
this  form  of  drill. 

This  mode  of  dividing  texts,  of  coui'se,  vnH  not  commend 
itself  to  many  readers  and  preachers.  But,  as  I  have  said, 
IVIr.  Spurgeon's  thought  is  to  jDreach.  He  is  what  would 
be  called  a  desultory  preacher.  In  the  course  of  his  ser- 
mon, he  seeks  to  hold  up  his  text  so  that  it  is  made  to  re- 
flect many  lights.  Sometimes  his  sermons  seem  more  topi- 
cal, more  the  treatment  of  a  subject.     No  sermon  or  text 


Pulint  Monograplis :  Charles  S'purgeon.    igr 

will  give  an}^  idea  of  the  ^Yllole  preacher.  In  the  volumes 
before  us  there  is  every  variety  ;  but  it  is  plain  that  he  does 
prefer  the  quaint  old  Piuitan  method.  IMany  of  his  titles 
and  treatments  stiike  me  exactly  as  the  "witty,  pithy  ways 
of  thought  of  that  gi-eatly-beloved  old  Puritan,  Thomas 
Brooks.  The  sermon  entitled  A  Bundle  of  ALyrrh :  text, 
"A  bundle  of  myrrh  is  my  well-beloved  unto  me,"  is  treat- 
ed exactly  as  old  Brooks  would  have  treated  it. 

Jesus  Christ  is  like  a  bundle  of  myrrh. 
I.  Precious  ;  a  very  valuable  drug. 
II.  Pleasant. 

III.  Perfuming, 

IV.  Preserving. 
V.  A  disinfectant 

VI.  A  cure. 
VII.  A  Ijeautifier. 
VIII.  It  was  connected  with  sacrifice,  incense,  etc. 

Another  sermon,  entitled  Nothing  hut  Leaves,  suggests — 

I.  Those  who  follow  the  sign  and  know  nothing  of  the 
substance. 

II.  Those  who  have  opinion  without  faith. 

III.  Talk  without  feehng. 

IV.  Regrets  without  repentance. 

V.  Resolves  without  action. 

The  Broken  Column  is  the  title  of  a  sermon  on  the  text, 
"And  another  said,  Lord  I  will  follow  Thee — But — ''  the 
broken  text  itself  instantly  preaches  the  sermon.  It  is  in- 
teresting merely  to  nin  over  the  titles  alone  of  vei-y  many 
of  the  sermons.  1  Coiinthians,  vii.  29-31,  is  A  Drama  in 
Five  Acts,  "  So  he  paid  the  fare  thereof,"  gives  us,  D'avel- 
ling  Expends  on  two  Great  Boads.  A  text  fi'om  Job  gives 
a  Sei^mon  from  a  Bush.  Satan  considering  the  Sain/s ;  Tlw 
Barley  field  on  Fire;  The  Bierced  One  pierces  the  heart; 
Frost  and  Thaw;  Sea^et  sins  driven  out  by  slinging  Hornets ; 
TJie  Boot  thai  hearetJi  Wormwood;   Have  yow forgotten  Him? 


1 96        The  Dogmatism  of  his  Preaching. 

Am  I  sought  out?  Tell  it  oil;  A  Bottle  in  the  Smoke ;  Lions 
lacking — the  Children  salisfied ;  dc.,  dc  So,  did  space  per- 
mit, I  iniglit  note  down  veiy  many,  arresting  in  the  text, 
strikingly  suggestive  in  the  mode  of  application,  and  run- 
ning through  many  moods  of  tender  and  effective  appeals  to 
the  conscience  in  then*  titles  or  designations. 

But  I  should  convey  quite  a  wrong  impression  of  the 
preacher  if  I  implied  by  this  that  these  sermons  have  only 
this  varying  mannerism.  Mr.  Spui'geon  has  a  theological 
system  ;  he  knows  what  he  believes,  and  many  of  his  ser- 
mons have  an  accumulative  breadth  and  height  of  theolog- 
ical building  and  furniture.  Some  of  them  may  be  called 
even  massive  presentations  of  religious  tmth  and  know- 
ledge. I  have  before  remarked  upon  the  fact  that  fi'om  the 
time  he  began  to  preach,  when  almost  a  boy,  the  scheme  of 
Christian  truth  presented  itself  before  his  eyes  with  singu- 
lar distinctness.  The  later  volumes  of  his  sermons,  of 
course,  as  might  be  expected,  imfold  this ;  still,  in  many  in- 
stances, I  might  refer  to  many  of  these  sermons  as  pieces 
of  plain  talk,  yet  dealing  in  a  masterly  manner  with  the 
reasonings  of  theology  ;  exhibitions  of  tiTith  which  could 
not  be  hstened  to  without  revealing  the  de^^ths  and  heights 
of  argument  and  experience  involved  m  the  Christian  sys- 
tem. Some  amongst  us  w^ho  think  that  Christian  truth  is 
not  so  much  a  scientific  and  dogmatic  form  as  a  fi-ee  and 
spmtual  life,  may  be  disposed  to  underrate,  even  depreciate 
and  decry,  this  aspect  in  which  the  preacher  presents  him- 
seK.  We  may  be  sure,  however,  that  a  large  amount  of  his 
power  is  in  what  may  be  called  his  dogmatism.  The  un- 
hesitating certainty  with  which  he  expresses  hunself,  what- 
ever doubts,  whatever  casuistries  or  reasonings  he  ever  may 
have  been  the  subject  of,  he  apparently  never  entertams  his 
people  with  them.  His  spoken  words  are  all  firm  as  a  rock  ; 
to  himself  his  truth  seems  certain ;  and  its  various  parts 
haiinonious  and  consistent.     The  volumes  before  us  nm- 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Charles  Spur g eon.    \  nj 

ning  tlirougli  twelve  years  of  a  young  man's  history,  are 
perfectly  synthetic.  It  would  not  seem  that  he  is  ignorant 
at  all,  at  any  rate  of  the  popular  forms  of  the  thoughts  and 
theories  which  have  disturbed  the  repose  of  faith  in  so  many 
minds  dming  these  eventful  years.  It  would  be  a  sin  to 
say  of  him  that  he  is  a  preacher  merely  by  rote.  His  pe- 
culiar moral  qualities  make  it  certaiu  that  he  must  see  the 
grounds  of  the  earthquake  wliich  have  shaken  so  many 
houses  of  faith  to  then-  very  foundations  ;  yet  the  shock 
seems  never  to  have  come  nigh  him.  This  theology  some, 
regarding  it  at  a  distance,  might  perhaps  call  hard  ;  but 
assuredly  the  traces  of  a  hard  and  untender  natiu-e  are  not 
in  these  volumes ;  rather  of  a  very  tender  and  morally  af- 
fectionate one.  He  always  stands  by  the  great  truth  of  the 
atonement,  and  cries,  Believe !  With  a  cei-tain  order  of  re- 
finmg  and  luxui'ious  doubting  and  disbeheving,  to  which  it 
Beems  also  certain  too  much  deference  has  been  paid  by 
preachers,  he  has  no  sympathy.  I  should  expose  him,  I 
am  aware,  to  the  contempt  of  many  if  I  were  to  say  of  him- 
he  only  has  contempt  for  it.  However  that  may  be,  it  seems 
certain  that  his  theology  is  not  reared  fi-om  moods  and  feel- 
ings alone,  but  is  wrought  out  on  the  strong  anvil  of  a  for- 
cible and  sagacious  intelligence  ;  and  it  is  perhaps  true  in 
his  instance  that  hard,  incessant,  and  imj^erative  work  has 
kei^t  him  from  handling  very  closely  those  refining  and  fas- 
tidious fears  of  the  mtellectual  nature  wliich  have  stimo- 

o 

and  wounded  many  so  fearfull}^  I  believe  work  has  kept 
him  fiiinly  to  his  principles,  and  has,  no  doubt,  answered 
to  him  those  questions  which  must  be  answered  to  every 
man,  and  answered  in  the  affiiinative,  if  he  would  be  hai> 
py,  and  find  a  heart  at  rest,  and  a  tongue  cntu'cly  fi*ee. 

I  have  referred  to  the  manifoldncss  of  this  speech ;  a 
flow  of  talk,  a  happy  arrangement,  an  impressive  manner, 
do  not  of  themselves  complete  and  constitute  eloquence  ; 
eloquence  in  a  great  preacher,  must  l:e  like  a  manj-co^ored 


1^8  Illustrative  Extracts. 

garden,  or  it  tii'es.  Especially  are  there  some  kinds  of 
more  ordinary  eloquence  wliich  siu'feit  and  cloy.  IMr. 
Spurgeon  touches  many  strings  ;  aphorism  and  anecdote, 
coarse,  quaint,  outrageously  grotesque  ;  then  again,  quiet, 
subjective,  profoundly  tender  and  subdued,  snatches  from 
imexiDected  poets,  strains  of  household  songs,  come  lilting 
along,  with  troops  of  quotations  from  all  the  sacred  poets, 
versicles  of  hymns  by  wholesale,  giving  a  chorus  to  his  own 
feelings  and  a  rehef  to  the  feelings  of  the  people.  Trav- 
els to  and  fi'o  in  England  are  always  fui'nishing  him  with 
stories  of  jDersons  and  places.  Anecdotes,  humorous  or 
pathetic ;  gushes  of  rich  poetic  description,  sometimes  a 
sublime,  sustained  exordium  ;  vehement,  passionate,  over- 
w^helming  peroration.  They  must  have  strange  scenes,  one 
thinks,  sometimes  at  the  Tabernacle.  It  must  have  been  a 
fine  moment  when  preaching  a  new-year's  sermon  from  the 
text,  "To  Him  be  glory  both  now  and  forever.  Amen,"  the 
invocations  of  the  preacher  were  met  and  responded  to  by 
the  massive  thousands  thundering  back  to  him  agam,  and 
again,  and  again,  their  loud  Amens  at  the  close  of  each 
passage. 

Perhaps  you  will  be  pleased  if  I  make  a  brief  catena  of 
passages  illustrating  the  variety  of  style  to  which  I  have 
referred.  Tenderness  has  not  alwa^^s  been  supposed  to  bo 
a  considerable  attribute  of  the  preacher,  yet  manifold  pa- 
ges contain  tenderest  expressions.  The  first  extract  is 
from  a  sermon  on  Spring,  "  The  rain  is  over  and  gone,"  «&c. 

THE   DYING  DAT   OF    THE   CHRISTIAN  A   SPRING  DAY. 

The  time  is  coming  to  us  all,  when  wc  shall  lie  njDon  our  dy- 
ing beds.  Oh  !  long-expected  daj^,  hasten  and  come  !  The  best 
thing  a  Christian  can  do  is  to  die,  and  be  with  Christ,  which  ig 
far  better.  Well,  when  we  shall  lie  upon  our  beds  panting  out 
our  life,  we  shall  remember  that  then  the  winter  is  past  for  ever. 
No  more  now  of  this  world's  trials  and  troubles.  ''The  rain  is 
over  and  gone  ;  "  no  more  stormy  doubts,  no  more  dark  days  of 


Pidj^it  Monogra'plis :  Charles  Spur geon.    igg 

affliction.  "  The  flowers  appear  ou  the  earth  ;  "  Christ  is  giving 
to  the  djaug  saint  some  of  the  foretastes  of  heaven ;  the  angels 
are  throwing  over  the  walls  some  of  the  flowers  of  Paradise. 
We  have  come  to  the  land  Beiilah,  we  sit  down  on  beds  of  spices 
and  can  almost  see  the  celestial  city  on  the  hill  tops,  on  the  oth- 
er side  of  the  narroAV  stream  of  death.  "  The  time  of  the  sing- 
ing of  the  birds  is  come  ; "  angelic  songs  are  heard  in  the  sick- 
chamber.  The  heart  sings  too,  and  midnight  melodies  cheer  the 
quiet  entrance  of  the  grave.  "Though  I  walk  through  the  val- 
ley of  the  shadow  of  death  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with 
me."  Those  are  sweet  birds  winch  sing  in  the  groves  by  the 
river  Jordan.  Now  it  is  that  "  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard 
in  our  land ;  "  calm,  peaceful  and  quiet,  the  soul  rests  in  the  con- 
sciousness that  there  is  no  condemnation  to  him  that  is  in  Christ 
Jesus.  Now  does  "  the  fig  tree  put  forth  her  green  figs  ;  "  the 
first  fruits  of  heaven  are  plucked  and  eaten  while  we  are  on  earth. 
Now  do  the  ycvj  vines  of  heaven  give  forth  a  smell  that  can  be 
perceived  by  love.  Look  forward  to  your  death,  ye  that  are  be- 
lievers in  Christ,  with  great  joy.  Ex^Dect  it  as  your  spring-tide 
of  life,  the  time  when  your  real  summer  shall  come,  and  your 
winter  shall  be  over  for  ever. 

One  distant  glimpse  my  eager  passion  fires! 
Jesus !  to  thee  my  longing  soul  aspires  1 
When  shall  I  hear  thy  voice  divinely  say, 
Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one  come  away. 
Come  meet  thy  Saviour  bright  and  glorious, 
O'er  sin,  and  death,  and  hell  victorious. 

HE   BROUOnT   ME   UP. 

I  thought  I  saw  just  now  before  my  eyes  a  dark  and  horrible 
pit,  and  down  deep  below,  where  the  eye  could  not  reach,  lay  a 
being  broken  in  pieces,  whose  groans  and  bowlings  pierced  tlic 
awful  darkness  and  amazed  my  ears.  Methought  I  saw  a  bright 
one  fly  from  the  highest  heaven,  and,  in  an  instant,  dive  into 
that  black  darkness  till  he  was  lost  and  buried  in  it.  I  waited 
for  a  moment  and  to  my  mind's  eye  I  saw  two  spirits  rising 
from  the  horrid  deep,  with  arms  entwined  as  though  one  was 
bearing  up  the  other.     I  saw  them  emerge  from  the  gloom :  I 


200  Illustrative  Extracts. 

heard  the  fairest  of  tlicm  say,  as  He  mounted  into  liglit,  "  I  liavc 
loved  thee,  and  given  myself  lor  thee."  And  I  heard  the  other, 
who  was  that  poor  broken  one  just  now,  say,  "  I  was  foolish  and 
ignorant,  I  was  as  a  beast  before  thee."  Ere  I  could  write  the 
words  both  spirits  had  risen  into  mid-air,  and  I  heard  one  of 
them  say,  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise,"  and  the  other 
whispered,  "  Nevertheless  I  am  continually  with  thee."  As  they 
mounted  higher,  I  heard  one  say,  "  None  shall  pluck  thee  out  of 
my  hand,"  and  I  heard  the  other  say,  "  Thou  holdest  me  by  my 
right  hand."  As  still  they  arose  they  continued  the  loving  dia- 
logue. "  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye,"  said  the  bright  one  ; 
the  other  answered,  "  Thou  shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel." 
They  reached  the  bright  clouds  that  separate  earth  from  heaven, 
and  as  they  parted  to  make  w^ay  for  the  glorious  One,  he  said, 
"  I  will  give  thee  to  sit  upon  my  throne  even  as  I  have  overcome, 
and  sit  upon  my  Father's  throne,"  and  the  other  answered,  "  And 
thou  shalt  afterward  receive  me  to  glory."  Lo  !  the  clouds  closed 
their  doors  and  they  were  gone.  Methought  again  they  opened 
and  I  saw  those  two  spirits  soaring  onward  beyond  stars,  and 
sun,  and  moon  ;  right  up  beyond  principalities  and  powers ;  on, 
beyond  cherubim  and  seraphim ;  right  up  beyond  every  name 
that  is  named,  until  in  that  ineffable  brightness,  dark  with  un- 
sufferable  light,  the  awful  glory  of  the  Deity  whom  eye  cannot 
see,  both  those  spirits  were  lost,  and  there  came  the  sound  of 
joyous  hallelujahs  from  the  spirits  which  are  before  the  throne. 
May  it  be  your  lot  and  mine  thus  to  be  brought  up,  for  we  are 
thus  fiillen ;  may  it  be  ours  to  be  thus  caught  up  to  the  third 
heaven,  for  we  are  thus  broken  and  cast  down  into  the  lowest  hell 
by  nature.  God  give  us  faith  in  Christ.  Faith  in  Christ,  that  is 
the  link,  the  bond,  the  tie,  "  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."   "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief." 

THE  PEN  THAT   WROTE   "  PARADISE  LOST." 

Oh  !  what  poor  little  things  v/e  are,  and  yet  we  think  we  do 
so  much.  The  pen  might  say,  "  I  wrote  Milton's  Paradise  Losty 
Ah  ?  poor  pen  !  thou  couldst  not  have  made  a  dot  to  an  "  i,"  or 
a  cross  to  a  "t,"  if  Milton's  hand  had  not  moved  thee.  The 
preacher  could  do  nothing  if  God  had  not  helped  him.  The  axe 
mifht  cry,  "  I  have  felled  forests ;  I  have  made  the  cedar  bow  its 


Pulpit  Monorjmplis :  CliarJes  Spiirgeon.    201 

head,  and  laid  the  stalwart  oak  iu  the  dust."  No,  thou  didst 
not ;  for  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  arm  which  wielded  thee,  even 
a  bramble  would  have  been  too  much  for  thee  to  cut  down.  Shall 
the  sword  say,  "  I  won  the  victory;  I  shed  the  blood  of  the  miji:hty ; 
I  caused  the  shield  to  be  cast  away  ? ''  No,  it  was  the  warrior, 
M'ho  with  his  courage  and  might  made  thee  of  service  in  the 
battle,  but  apart  from  this  thou  art  less  than  nothing.  In  all  that 
God  doth  by  us,  let  us  continue  to  give  Him  the  praise,  so  shall 
He  continue  His  presence  with  our  eftbrts,  otherwise  He  will  take 
from  us  His  smile,  and  so  we  shall  be  left  as  weak  men. 

THROUGUI   niM   WERE    ALL   THINGS. 

Through  Ilim  were  all  things,  from  the  high  archangel  who 
sings  His  praises  in  celestial  notes,  down  to  the  cricket  chiri> 
ing  on  the  hearth.  The  same  finger  paints  the  rainbow  and  the 
wing  of  the  butterfly.  He  who  dyes  the  garments  of  evening 
in  all  the  colors  of  heaven,  has  covered  the  king-cup  with  gold, 
and  lit  up  the  glow-worm's  lamp.  From  yonder  ponderous 
mountain,  piercing  the  clouds,  down  to  that  minute  grain  of  dust 
in  the  summer's  threshing-floor,  all  things  through  Him  are. 
Let  but  God  withdraw  the  emanation  of  His  divine  power,  and 
everything  would  melt  away  as  the  foam  upon  the  sea  melts  into 
the  wave  which  bore  it.  Nothing  could  stand  an  instant  if  the 
divine  foundation  were  removed.  If  He  should  shake  the  pil- 
lars of  the  world,  the  whole  temple  of  creation  falls  to  ruin,  and 
its  very  dust  is  blown  away.  A  dreary  waste,  a  silent  emptiness, 
a  voiceless  wilderness  is  all  which  remaincth  if  God  withdraws 
His  power;  nay,  even  so  much  as  this  were  not  if  His  power 
should  be  withheld. 

That  nature  is  as  it  is  is  through  the  energy  of  the  present  God. 
If  the  sun  riseth  every  morning,  and  the  moon  walketh  in  her 
brightness  at  night,  it  is  through  Him.  Out  upon  those  men 
who  think  that  God  has  wound  up  the  world,  as  though  it  were 
the  clock,  and  has  gone  away,  lea\dng  it  to  work  for  itself  apart 
from  His  present  hand.  God  is  present  everywhere — not  men-ly 
present  when  we  tremble  because  His  thunder  shakes  the  solid 
earth,  and  sets  the  heavens  in  a  blaze  with  lightnings,  but  just 
as  much  so  in  the  calm  summer's  breeze,  when  the  air  so  gently 
fans  the  flowers,  and  gnats  dance  up  and  down  in  the  last  gleams 
9* 


20  2  Illustrative  Extracts. 

of  sunlight.  ]\Ien  try  to  forget  tlic  divine  j^resencc  by  calling 
its  energy  by  strange  names.  They  speak  of  the  power  of  grav- 
itation ;  but  what  is  the  power  of  gravitation  ?  A7e  know  what 
it  docs,  but  what  is  it  ?  Gravitation  is  God's  own  power.  They 
tell  us  of  mysterious  laws— of  electricity,  and  I  know  not  what. 
"We  know  the  laws,  and  let  them  wear  the  names  they  have  ;  but 
laws  cannot  operate  without  power.  What  is  the  force  of  na- 
ture ?  It  is  a  constant  emanation  from  the  great  Fountain  of 
power,  the  constant  outflowing  of  God  himself,  the  perpetual  go- 
ing forth  of  beams  of  light  from  Ilim  w^ho  is  the  "  great  Father 
of  Lights,  with  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow." 
Tread  softly,  be  reverent,  for  God  is  here,  O  mortal,  as  truly  as 
he  is  in  heaven.  Wherever  thou  art  and  whatever  thou  lookest 
upon,  thou  art  in  God's  w^orkshop,  where  every  wheel  is  turned 
by  His  hand.  Everything  is  not  God,  but  God  is  in  everything, 
and  nothing  worketh,  or  even  existeth,  except  by  His  present 
power  and  might.     "  Of  Him,  and  through  Him  are  all  things." 

TALK  OP  siN]srERS.  (Closc  of  a  Sermon). 
Talk  of  sinners  !  Walk  the  streets  by  moonlight  if  you  dare, 
and  you  will  see  sinners  then.  Watch  w^hen  the  night  is  dark, 
and  the  wind  is  howling,  and  the  picklock  is  grating  in  the  door, 
and  you  will  see  sinners  then.  Go  to  yon  jail,  and  walk  through 
the  wards  and  see  the  men  with  heavy,  overhanging  brows,  men 
whom  you  would  not  like  to  meet  out  at  night,  and  there  are  sin- 
ners there.  Go  to  the  Ileform;itories,  and  see  those  who  have  be- 
trayed an  early  and  a  juvenile  depravity,  and  you  will  see  sinners 
there.  Go  across  the  seas  to  the  plijce  where  a  man  will  gnaw 
a  bone  reeking  with  human  flesh,  and  there  is  a  sinner  there. 
Go  you  where  you  will,  and  ransack  earth  to  find  sinners,  for 
they  are  common  enough ;  you  may  find  them  in  every  lane  and 
street,  of  every  city  and  town,  and  village  and  hamlet.  It  is  for 
such  that  Jesus  died.  If  you  will  select  me  the  grossest  speci- 
men of  humanity,  if  he  but  born  of  woman,  I  will  have  hope  of 
him  yet,  because  the  Gospel  of  Christ  is  come  to  sinners,  and 
Jesus  Christ  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  sinners.  Electing  love 
has  selected  some  of  the  worst  to  be  made  the  best.  Redeeming 
love  has  l)ought,  specially  bought,  many  of  the  worst  to  be  the 
reward  of  the  Saviour's  ]):ission.     Effectual  grace  calls  out  and 


P'ul])it  Monograplis :  CJtarles  Spiirgeon.    203 

comj^cls  to  come  in  manyt)f  the  vilest  of  the  vile;  and  it  is, 
therefore,  that  I  have  tried  to-night  to  preach  my  Master's  love 
to  sinners. 

Oh  !  by  that  love  looking  out  of  those  eyes  in  tears ;  oh  !  by 
that  love  streaming  from  those  wounds  flowing  with  blood;  by 
that  faithful  love,  that  strong  love,  that  pure,  disinterested  and 
abiding  love  ;  oh  !  by  the  heart  and  by  the  bowels  of  the  Sa- 
viour's compassion,  I  do  conjure  you  turn  not  away  as  though  it 
were  nothing  to  you  ;  but  believe  on  Ilim  and  you  shall  be  saved. 
Trust  your  souls  with  Him  and  He  will  bring  you  to  His  Fathers 
right  hand  in  glory  everlasting. 

A  YisTA  YiEW  OP  THE  PAST.  ("  Hitherto  has  the  Lord  heli)ed  us.") 
I  like,  sometimes,  to  look  dowTi  a  long  avenue  of  trees.  It  is 
very  delightful  to  gaze  from  end  to  end  of  the  long  vista,  a  sort 
of  leafy  temple  with  its  branching  pillars  and  its  arches  of  leaves. 
Can  not  you  look  down  the  long  aisles  of  your  years,  look  at  the 
green  boughs  of  mercy  overhead,  and  the  strong  pillars  of  lov- 
ing-kindness and  fiithfulness  which  bear  your  joys  ?  Are  there 
no  birds  in  yonder  branches  singing  ?  Surely,  there  must  be 
many.  And  the  bright  sunshine  and  the  blue  sky  are  yonder; 
and,  if  you  turn  around  in  the  fiir  distance,  you  may  see  heaven's 
brightness  and  a  throne  of  gold.     "  Hitherto !  hitherto  ! " 

EDDYSTONE  LiaHTHOUSE. 

You  may  have  a  very  strong  faith  in  everything  else  ])ut 
Christ,  and  yet  perish.  There  was  an  architect  who  had  a  plan 
for  building  a  lighthouse  on  the  Eddystone  Rock.  It  quite  sat- 
isfied his  mind;  and,  as  he  sat  by  the  fire  looking  at  his  plans 
he  was  quite  sure  that  no  storm  that  ever  came  could  shake  the 
building.  He  applied  for  the  contract  to  build  the  lighthouse, 
and  did  build  it,  and  a  very  singular  looking  place  it  was.  There 
were  a  great  many  flags  about  it  and  ornaments,  and  it  looked 
very  i^romising.  Some  shook  their  heads  a  little,  but  he  was 
very,  very  firm,  and  said  he  should  like  to  be  in  it  himself  in  the 
worst  wind  that  ever  blew.  He  was  in  it  at  the  time  he  wanted 
to  be,  and  he  was  never  heard  of  again,  nor  was  anything  more 
ever  seen  of  his  lighthouse.  The  whole  thing  was  swept  away, 
lie  was  a  man  of  great  faith,  only  it  happened  to  be  founded  on 


204  Illustrative  Extracts, 

mistaken  princii^lcs.  Now,  sometime!*,  because  there  is  a  way  ot 
talking  -which  looks  very  much  like  assurance,  you  may  say,  "  I 
am  not  afraid  ;  I  never  had  a  doubt  or  a  fear ;  I  know  it  is  all 
right  wuth  my  soul ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  test  of  the  day  ot 
judgment."  Well,  whether  you  wish  it  or  not,  that  test  for  the 
labor  of  your  lighthouse  will  come,  and  if  it  should  prove  that 
you  built  it  yourself,  it  will  be  swept  away  and  you  with  it.  But 
if  your  soul  takes  God's  Word,  and  reads  that  Word,  believing 
it,  and  being  willing  to  be  taught  its  inward  meaning, — if  you 
take  that  AVord  as  it  stands,  and  rest  ui)on  it,  and  act  upon  it 
with  all  3'our  heart  and  soul,  the  worst  storm  that  ever  blew 
shall  never  shake  your  rock  and  refuge,  nor  you  either ;  but  you 
shall  be  safe  when  earth's  old  columns  bow,  and  all  her  wheels 
shall  go  to  wreck  and  confusion. 

Rest  thou  in  the  Lord  Jehovah.  Depend  on  the  blood  and 
righteousness  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  all  thou  needcst,  and 
rest  wholly  in  Him  with  the  whole  weight  of  thy  soul  and  spirit, 
and  then  there  shall  be  no  fear  but  what  thou  shalt  see  God's 
face  with  acceptance. 

HEADS   AND   LEGS. 

Oh  !  I  would  that  some  Christians  would  pay  a  little  attention 
to  their  legs,  instead  of  paying  it  all  to  their  heads.  When 
children's  heads  grow  too  fast  it  is  a  sign  of  disease,  and  they 
get  the  rickets,  or  water  on  the  brain.  So,  there  are  some  very 
sound  brethren,  who  seem  to  me  1o  have  got  some  kind  of  dis- 
ease, and  when  they  try  to  walk,  they  straightway  make  a  tum- 
ble of  it,  because  they  have  paid  so  much  attention  to  perplex- 
ing doctrinal  views,  instead  of  looking,  as  they  ought  to  have 
done,  to  the  practical  part  of  Christianity.  By  all  means  let  us 
have  doctrine,  but  by  all  means  let  us  have  precept  too.  By  all 
means  let  us  have  inward  experience,  but  by  all  means  let  us  also 
have  outward  "holiness,  without  wdiich  no  man  can  see  the 
Lord." 

THE   POWER   OF   GOD. 

What  is  there  which  he  cannot  do  ?  We  see  but  little  of  God's 
power  comparatively  in  our  land.  Now  and  then  there  comes  a 
crash  of  thunder  in  a  storm,  and  we  look  up  with  amazement 
when  He  sets  the  heavens  on  ablaze  with  Ilis  lit^htniiiir.     But 


Ftdpit  IlonograpliS :  Clicirles  S]yurgeon.    205 

go  and  do  business  on  the  deep  waters ;  let  your  vessel  fly  be- 
fore the  howling  hurricane ;  mark  how  every  stauncli  timber 
seems  to  crack  as  though  it  were  but  match-board,  and  the  steady 
mast  goes  by  the  board,  and  snaps,  and  is  broken  to  shivers. 
Mark  what  God  does  when  He  stirs  up  the  great  deep,  and  seems 
to  bring  heaven  down  and  lift  the  earth  up  until  the  elements 
nnngle  in  a  common  mass  of  tempest.  Then  go  to  the  Alps,  and 
listen  to  the  thunder  of  the  avalanche.  Stand  amazed,  as  you 
look  down  some  grim  precipice,  or  peer  with  awe-struck  wonder 
into  the  blue  mj'steries  of  a  crevasse ;  see  the  leaping  cataracts, 
and  mark  those  frozen  seas — the  glaciers — as  they  come  sweep- 
ing down  the  mountain  side ;  stay  awhile  till  a  storm  shall  gath- 
er there,  and  Alp  shall  talk  to  Alp,  and  those  white  projDhetic 
heads  shall  seem  to  bow  while  the  wings  of  tempest  cover  them  ! 
There  you  may  learn  something  of  the  power  of  God  amidst  the 
crash  »>f  nature.  If  you  could  have  stood  by  the  side  of  Dr. 
Woolf,  when  rising  early  one  morning,  he  went  out  of  Aleppo,  and, 
upon  turning  his  head,  saw  that  Aleppo  was  no  more  ;  it  having 
been  in  a  single  moment  swallowed  up  by  an  earthquake,  then 
again  you  might  see  what  God  can  do.  But  what  need  I  feebly 
recapitulate  what  you  all  know  so  well  ?  Think  of  what  that 
Book  records  of  His  deeds  of  prowess,  when  He  unloosed  the 
depths,  and  bade  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  be  broken  up, 
that  the  whole  world,— that  then  was,— might  be  covered  with 
water.  Think  of  what  he  did  at  the  Red  Sea,  when  the  depths 
stood  upright  as  a  heap,  for  a  time,  while  his  people  went 
through,  and,  when  afterwards  with  eager  joy  the  floods  clasped 
their  hands,  and  buried  the  foemen  in  the  deep,  never  to  rise 
again !  Let  such  names  as  Og,  king  of  Bashan,  Silion,  king  of 
the  Amorites,  and  Sennacherib,  the  might}',  rise  before  your  rec- 
ollection, and  mark  what  God  has  done  !  AVho  has  over  dashed 
upon  the  bosses  of  His  buckler  ^\'ithout  being  wounded  ?  What 
iron  has  He  not  broken  ?  What  spear  has  He  not  shivered  ? 
Millions  came  against  Him,  but  by  the  blast  of  the  breath  of  his 
nostrils  they  fell,  or  they  Hew  like  the  chaff  before  the  wind.  Let 
•the  sea  roar,  and  the  fullness  thereof,  but  the  rocks  stand  still  and 
hurl  off  the  waves  in  flakes  of  foam,  and  so  doth  God,  when 
His  foes  are  most  enraged  and  passionate.  He  that  sitteth  in 
the  heavens  doth  laugh  •  the  Lord  doth  have  them  in  derision; 


2o6  Illustrative  Extracts. 

and  lie  l;)rcaketh  tliem  in  pieces  witliout  a  stroke  of  His  hand, 
or  even  the  glance  of  the  eye.  Think,  sinner,  think  of  llim 
with  whom  thou  contendcst.  Ilast  thou  an  arm  like  God's? 
Canst  thou  thunder  with  a  voice  like  His  ?  Canst  thou  stamp 
with  thy  foot,  and  shake  the  mountains  ?  Canst  thou  touch  the 
hills  and  make  them  smoke  ?  Canst  thou  say  to  the  sea,  "  Be 
stirred  to  thy  depths,"  or  canst  thou  call  to  the  winds  and  bid 
the  steeds  of  tempest  be  unloosed?  If  thou  canst  not,  then 
think  of  the  battle  !  Attempt  to  do  no  more,  but  hie  thee  back 
to  thy  bed,  and  there  commune  with  thy  own  heart,  and  make  thy 
peace  with  Him  against  whom  thou  canst  not  hope  successfully 
to  contend. 

niPRESSIONS    OF   TIME. 

Only  a  few  Sabbaths  ago  I  was  talking  to  you  of  Ruth  in  the 
harvest-fields,  and  of  the  heavily-laden  wagon  that  was  pressed 
down  with  sheaves ;  and  now  the  leaves  are  almost  all  gone ;  but 
few  remain  upon  the  trees ;  these  frosty  nights  and  stong  winds 
have  swc2)t  the  giants  of  the  forest  till  their  limbs  are  bare,  and 
the  hoar  frosts  plate  them  with  silver.  Then,  before  we  shall 
have  time  to  burn  the  winter's  log,  we  shall  see  the  snow-drops 
and  the  yellow  crocuses  heralding  another  spring  !  At  what  a 
rate  we  whirl  along !  Childhood  seems  to  travel  in  a  wagon, 
but  manhood  at  express  speed.  As  we  groAV  older  I  am  told 
that  the  speed  increases,  till  the  gray-headed  old  man  looks 
Ijack  upon  all  his  life  as  being  but  a  day;  and  I  suppose  if  we 
could  live  to  be  a  hundred  and  thirty  we  should  feci  the  same, 
till,  like  Jacob,  we  should  say,  "  Few  and  evil  have  been  the 
days  of  thy  servant ;"  and,  if  we  could  live  as  long  as  Mathuse- 
lah,  I  doubt  not  our  lives  would  appear  shorter  still.  How  time 
flies,  not  only  by  the  measurement  of  the  seasons  but  by  our- 
selves  !  A  few  daj^s  ago  I  trudged  with  my  satchel  on  my  back 
to  school,  or  joined  in  boyish  sport.  How  lately  was  it  when 
the  boy  became  a  youth,  and  must  be  doing  something,  and  was 
teaching  other  boys  as  he  had  been  taught  in  his  day.  It  was 
1)ut  yesterday  I  came  to  Park  Street  to  address  some  few  of 
you,  and  yet  how  time  has  fled  since  then,  till  now  some  nine 
years  of  our  ministry  have  passed.  No  weaver's  shuttle,  no  ar- 
row from  a  bow,  no  swift  post,  no  meteor  seems  to  fly  at  a  rate 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Charles  Spur geon.    207 

so  -wonderful  as  docs  our  life  !  We  heard  of  one  the  other  day 
that  had  seen  Wesley  preach,  and  so  we  find  ourselves  side-by- 
side  with  the  last  century,  and  those  old  people  have  known 
some  others  in  their  youth  who  told  them  of  the  yet  older  time, 
and  you  find  that  going  through  the  history  of  some  ten  or 
twelve  persons  you  are  carried  back  to  the  days  of  William  tho 
Conqueror,  and  you  see  our  country  taken  by  the  Normans,  and 
then  you  fly  back  to  ancient  British  times  as  with  a  thought. 
You  no  longer  say,  "  How  long  the  nation  has  existed !"  for  it  is 
as  a  sleep.  You  stand  by  some  old  cliff  and  see  a  deposit  of 
shells,  and  as  you  remember  that  it  may  have  taken  a  million 
of  years  to  have  formed  that  bed,  you  think — "  What  is  man  ? 
and  what  is  time  ?  It  is  not  here,  but  gone  !"  We  have  only  to 
think  of  what  time  is  to  conclude  at  once  that  time  is  not !  It 
is  but  a  little  interlude  in  the  midst  of  the  vast  eternity ;  a  nar- 
row neck  of  land  jutting  out  into  the  great,  dread,  and  unfa- 
thomable sea  of  everlastingness ! 

Coleridge's  "ancient  mariner." 
Have  ye  ever  read  Coleridge's  "  Ancient  Mariner  ?"  I  dare  say 
you  have  thought  it  one  of  the  strangest  imaginations  ever  jjut 
together,  especially  that  part  where  the  old  mariner  represents 
the  corpses  of  all  the  dead  men  rising  up, — all  of  them  dead, 
yet  rising  up  to  manage  the  ship;  dead  men  pulling  the  ropes, 
dead  men  steering,  dead  men  spreading  the  sails.  I  thought 
what  a  strange  idea  that  was.  But  do  you  know  I  have  lived  to 
see  that  true  :  I  have  seen  it  done.  I  have  gone  into  churches 
and  I  have  seen  a  dead  man  in  the  pulpit,  and  a  dead  man  as  a 
deacon,  and  a  dead  man  holding  the  plate  at  the  door,  and  dead 
men  sitting  to  hear.  You  say,  "  Strange  !"  but  I  have.  I  have 
gone  into  societies,  and  I  have  seen  it  all  going  on  so  regularly. 
These  dead  men,  you  know,  never  outstep  the  bounds  of  pru- 
dence,— not  they:  they  have  not  life  enough  to  do  that.  They 
always  pull  the  rope  orderh'^,  "As  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is 
now,  and  ever  shall  be,  world  without  end,  Amen."  And  the 
dead  man  in  the  pulpit,  is  he  not  most  regular  and  precise  ?  He 
systematically  draws  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  and 
uses  it  at  the  regular  period,  in  the  middle  of  the  sermon.  He 
would  not  think  of  violating  a  single  rubric  tliat  has  been  laid 


20 8  Illustrative  Extracts. 

down  by  liis  old-liisliioned  church.  "Well,  I  have  seen  these 
churches — I  know  where  to  point  them  out — and  have  seen  dead 
men  doing  everj^thing.  "No,"  says  one,  "you  can't  mean  it  V 
Yes,  I  do;  the  men  were  spiritually  dead.  I  have  seen  the  min- 
ister preaching,  without  a  particle  of  life,  a  sermon,  which  is 
only  fresh  in  the  sense  in  wliich  a  fish  is  fresh  when  it  has  been 
packed  in  ice.  I  have  seen  the  people  sit,  and  they  have  listened 
as  if  they  had  been  a  group  of  statues — the  chiselled  marble 
would  have  been  as  much  aflectcd  by  the  sermon  as  they.  I 
have  seen  the  deacons  go  about  their  business  just  as  orderly, 
and  with  as  much  precisi(m  as  if  they  had  been  mere  automa- 
tons, and  not  men  with  hearts  and  souls  at  all.  Do  you  think 
God  will  ever  bless  a  church  that  is  like  that  ?  Are  we  ever  to 
take  the  kingdom  of  heaven  with  a  troop  of  dead  men  ?  Nev- 
er !  We  want  living  ministers,  living  hearers,  living  deacons, 
living  elders,  and  until  we  have  such  men  who  have  got  the  very 
fire  of  life  burning  in  their  souls,  who  have  got  tongues  of  life, 
and  eyes  of  life,  and  souls  of  life,  we  shall  never  see  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  taken  by  storm.  "  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force." 

THE  MOUNTAIN  ESTABLISHED  ON  THE  TOP  OF  THE  HILLS. 

Transport  yourselves  for  a  moment  to  the  foot  of  Mount  Zion. 
As  you  stand  there,  you  observe  that  it  is  but  a  very  little  hill. 
Bashan  is  fiir  loftier,  and  Carmel  and  Sharon  outvie  it.  As  for 
Lebanon,  Zion  is  but  a  little  hillock  compared  with  it.  If  you 
think  for  a  moment  of  the  Alps,  or  of  the  loftier  Andes,  or  of 
the  yet  mightier  Himalayas,  this  Mount  Zion  seems  to  be  a  very 
little  hill,  a  mere  mole-hill,  insignificant,  desjDicable,  and  ob- 
tscure.  Stand  there  for  a  moment,  until  the  Sjoirit  of  God 
touches  your  eye,  and  you  shall  see  this  hill  begin  to  grow.  Up 
it  mounts,  with  the  temple  on  its  summit,  till  it  outreaches  Ta- 
bor. Onward  it  grows,  till  Carmel,  with  its  perpetual  green,  is 
left  behind,  and  Salmon,  with  its  everlasting  snow,  sinks  be- 
fore it.  Onward  still  it  grows,  till  the  sno-s^^  peaks  of  Lebanon 
are  eclipsed.  Still  onward  mounts  the  hill,  drawing  with  its 
mighty  roots  other  mountains  and  hills  into  its  fiibric;  and  on- 
ward it  rises,  till  piercing  the  clouds  it  reaches  above  the  Ali3s ; 
and  onward  still,  till  th-e  Himalayas  seem  to  be  sucked  into  its 


Puliylt  Ilonographs:  CJiarles  Sjnmjcon.    209 

bowels,  and  the  c:rcritcst  mountains  of  tlic  earth  appear  to  be 
but  as  the  roots  that  strike  out  from  the  side  of  the  eternal  hill ; 
and  there  it  rises  till  you  can  scarcely  see  the  top,  as  infinitely 
above  all  the  higher  mountains  of  the  world  as  they  are  above 
the  valleys.  Have  you  caught  the  idea,  and  do  you  see  there 
aftir  off  upon  the  lofty  top,  not  everlasting  snows,  but  a  pure 
crystal  table-land,  crowned  with  a  gorgeous  city,  the  metropolis 
of  God,  the  royal  palace  of  Jesus  the  King.  The  sun  is  eclipsed 
by  the  light  which  shines  from  the  top  of  this  mountain ;  the 
moon  ceases  from  her  brightness,  for  there  is  now  no  night ; 
but  this  one  hill,  lifted  up  on  high,  illuminates  the  atmosphere, 
and  the  nations  of  them  that  are  saved  are  walking  in  the  light 
thereof.  The  hill  of  Zion  hath  now  outsoared  all  others,  and 
all  the  mountains  and  hills  of  the  earth  are  become  as  nothing 
befjre  her.  This  is  the  magnificent  picture  of  the  text.  I  do 
not  know  that  in  all  the  compass  of  poetry  there  is  an  idea  so 
massive  and  stupendous  as  this — a  mountain  heaving,  expand- 
ing, swelling,  growing,  till  all  the  high  hills  become  absorbed, 
and  that  which  was  but  a  little  rising  ground  before,  becomes  a 
hill  the  top  whereof  reacheth  to  the  seventh  heaven.  Now  we 
have  here  a  picture  of  what  the  church  is  to  be. 

T^  ^  -T*  't^  "r  ^  3|C 

It  has  never  been  my  privilege  to  be  able  to  leave  this  country 
for  any  time,  to  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  loftier  mountains  of 
Europe,  but  even  the  little  hills  of  Scotland,  where  half  way  up 
the  mist  is  slumbering,  struck  me  with  some  degree  of  awe. 
These-are  some  of  God's  t)ld  works,  high  and  lofty,  talking  to 
the  stars,  lifting  up  their  heads  above  the  clouds  as  though 
they  were  ambassadors  from  earth  ordained  to  s^Deak  to  God  in 
silence  far  aloft.  But  jjoets  tell  us — and  travellers  who  have  but 
little  poetry  say  the  same — that  standing  at  the  foot  of  some  of 
the  stupendous  mountains  of  Euroi^e  and  Asia,  the  soul  is  sub- 
dued with  the  grandeur  of  the  scene.  There,  upon  the  father 
of  mountains,  lie  the  eternal  snows  glittering  in  the  sun-light, 
and  the  spirit  wonders  to  see  such  mighty  things  as  these,  such 
massive  ramparts  garrisoned  with  storms.  Wc  seem  to  be  but 
as  insects  crawling  at  their  base,  while  they  appear  to  stand  like 
cherubims  before  the  throne  of  God,  sometimes  covering  their 
fiice  with  clouds  of  mist,  or  at  other  times  lifting  up  their  wiiito 


2 1  o  Illustrative  Extracts. 

heads,  and  siiigung  their  silent  and  eternal  hymn  before  the 
throne  of  tlie  Most  High.  There  is  sometliing  awfully  grand  in 
a  mountain,  but  how  much  more  so  in  such  a  mountain  as  is 
described  in  our  text,  which  is  to  be  exalted  above  all  hills,  and 
above  all  the  highest  mountains  of  the  earth. 

KILLING   THE   WATCH-DOG,    CONSCIENCE. 

Wlienever  you  have  heard  an  earnest  powerful  sermon,  you 
liave  gone  home  and  labored  to  get  rid  of  it.  A  tear  has  stolen 
down  your  cheek  now  and  then,  and  you  have  despised  yourself 
for  it.  "  Oh  !"  you  say,  "  it  is  not  manly  for  me  to  think  of  these 
things."  There  have  been  a  few  twitches  at  times  which  you 
could  not  heliD,  but  the  moment  after  you  have  your  heart  like  a 
flint,  impenetrably  hard  and  stony.  Well,  sir,  I  will  give  a 
picture  of  yourself.  There  is  a  foolish  farmer  yonder  in  his 
house.  It  is  the  dead  of  night;  the  burglars  are  breaking  in — 
men  who  wall  neither  spare  his  Hfe  nor  his  treasure.  There  is  a 
dog  down  below  chained  in  the  yard ;  it  barks  and  barks,  and 
howds  again.  "  I  cannot  be  quiet,"  says  the  farmer,  ''  my  dog 
makes  too  much  noise."  Another  howl,  and  yet  another  yelL 
He  creeps  out  of  bed,  gets  his  loaded  gun,  opens  the  window, 
fires  it,  and  kills  the  dog.  "Ah!  it  is  all  right  now,"  he  mut- 
ters, he  goes  to  bed,  lies  down,  and  quietly  rests.  "  No  hurt  will 
come,"  he  says,  "  now;  for  I  have  made  that  dog  quiet."  Ah  ! 
but  w^ouid  that  he  could  have  listened  to  the  warning  of  the 
faithful  creature.  Ere  long  he  shall  feel  the  knife  and  rue  his 
fatal  folly.  So  you,  when  God  is  warning  you — when  your  faith- 
ful conscience  is  doing  its  best  to  save  you — you  try  to  kill  your 
only  friend,  while  Satan  and  Sin  are  stealing  up  to  the  bedside 
of  your  slothfulness,  and  are  ready  to  destroy  your  soul  for  ever 
and  ever.  What  should  we  think  of  the  sailor  at  sea  who 
should  seek  to  kill  all  the  stormy  petrels,  that  there  might  be 
an  end  to  all  storms  ?  Would  you  not  say,  "  Poor  foolish  man  ; 
why,  those  birds  are  sent  by  a  kind  Providence  to  warn  him  of 
the  tempest.  Why  needs  he  injure  them  ?  They  cause  not  the 
tumult;  it  is  the  raging  sea."  So  it  is  not  your  conscience  that 
is  guilty  of  the  disturbance  in  your  heart,  it  is  your  sin ;  and 
your  conscience,  acting  true  to  its  character  as  God's  index  in 
your  soul,  tells  you  that  all  is  wrong. 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Charles  Spur geon.    211 

THE    UNCONSCIOUSNESS    OF   NATURE. 

Wlicn  I  look  abroad  upon  nature,  it  is  true  I  do  not  see  na- 
ture fussily  trying  to  make  itself  tidy  for  a  visitor,  as  some  pro- 
fessors do,  who,  the  moment  they  think  they  are  going  to  be 
looked  at,  trim  uj)  their  godliness  to  make  it  look  smart.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  nature  is  never  bashful.  She  never  tries  to 
hide  her  beauties  from  the  gazer's  eye.  You  walk  the  valley ; 
the  sun  is  shining  and  a  few  rain-drops  are  falling ;  yonder  is 
the  rainbow ;  a  thousand  eyes  gaze  at  it.  Does  it  fold  up  all  its 
lovely  colors  and  retire?  Oh,  no!  it  shrinks  not  from  the  eye 
of  man.  In  yonder  garden  all  the  flowers  are  opening  their  be- 
jewelled cups,  the  birds  are  singing,  and  the  insects  humming 
amid  the  leaves.  It  is  a  place  so  beautiful  that  God  himself 
might  walk  therein  at  eventide,  as  he  did  in  Eden.  I  look  with- 
out alarming  the  bashful  beauties  of  the  garden.  Do  all  these 
insects  fold  their  wings  and  hide  beneath  the  leaves  ?  do  the 
flowers  hang  down  their  heads?  does  the  sun  draw  a  veil  over 
his  modest  face  ?  does  nature  blush  until  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
are  scarlet  ?  Oh,  no  !  Nature  cares  not  for  gazers,  and  when 
any  come  to  look  upon  her,  she  doth  not  hasten  to  wraj)  a  man- 
tle over  her  fair  form,  or  throw  a  curtain  before  her  grandeur. 
So  the  Christian  is  not  to  be  always  wishing  to  expose  what  is 
in  him ;  that  were  to  make  himself  a  Pharisee ;  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  God  has  put  anything  that  is  lovely  and  beauti- 
ful, and  of  good  repute,  in  you ;  anything  that  may  glorify  the 
cross  of  Christ,  and  make  the  angels  happy  before  the  eternal 
throne,  who  are  you  that  you  should  cover  it  ?  who  are  you  that 
you  should  rob  God  of  His  praise  ?  What !  would  you  have  all 
nature's  beauties  hid  ?  Why,  then,  hide  the  beauties  of  grace  ? 
Jesus  Christ  deserves  to  be  confessed  before  men.  He  is  not 
ashamed  to  own  himself  our  friend  amidst  the  splendors  of  Ilis 
Father's  court.  Nor  was  lie  ashamed  amidst  the  mockery  and 
spitting  of  Pilate's  hall.  Why,  then,  should  you  find  it  a  hard- 
ship or  a  difliculty  to  acknowledge  Uim? 

THE   NAME    OF   TITE   LOUD   A    STRONG   TOWER. 

Strong  towers  were  a  greater  security  in  a  bygone  age  than 
they  are  now.  Then,  when  troops  of  marauders  invaded  the 
land,  strong  castles  were  set  upon  the  various  hill-tops,  and  the 


2 1 2  His  Legitimate  Success. 

inhabitants  gathered  up  their  little  wealth  and  fled  thither  at 
once.  Castles  were  looked  upon  as  being  ver\'  difficult  places 
for  attack ;  and  ancient  troops  would  rather  fight  a  hundred 
battles  than  endure  a  single  siege.  Towns  which  would  be  tak- 
en by  modern  artillery  in  twelve  hours  held  out  for  twelve  years 
against  the  most  jwtent  forces  of  the  ancient  times.  lie  that 
possessed  a  castle  was  lord  of  all  the  region  round  about,  and 
made  their  inhabitants  either  his  clients  who  sought  his  pro- 
tection, or  his  dependents  whom  he  ruled  at  will.  lie  who  own- 
ed a  strong  tower  felt,  however  potent  might  be  his  adversary, 
his  walls  and  bulwarks  would  be  his  sure  salvation.  Generous 
rulers  provided  strongholds  for  their  jDCople  ;  mountain  fastness- 
es, where  the  peasantry  might  be  sheltered  from  marauders. 
Transfer  your  thoughts  to  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  picture  a 
people  who,  after  ploughing  and  sowing,  have  gathered  in  their 
harvest,  but  when  they  are  about  to  make  merry  with  the  har- 
vest festival,  a  startling  signal  banishes  their  joy.  A  trumpet 
is  blown  from  yonder  mountain,  the  tocsin  answers  it  from  the 
village  tower,  hordes  of  ferocious  robbers  are  aj^proaching,  their 
corn  will  be  devoured  by  strangers  ;  burying  their  corn  and  fur- 
niture, and  gathering  ujd  the  little  portable  wealth  they  have,  they 
hasten  with  all  their  might  to  their  tower  of  defence  which 
stands  on  yonder  ridge.  The  gates  are  shut;  the  drawbridge  is 
pulled  up ;  the  portcullis  is  let  down ;  the  warders  are  on  the 
battlements,  and  the  inhabitants  within  feel  that  they  are  safe. 
*  *  *  "  The  name  of  the  Lord  is  a  strong  tower;  the  right- 
eous runneth  into  it  and  is  safe." 

These  are  very  fair  illustrations  of  what  the  reader  will 
find  strewn  with  rich  affluence  over  the  many  thousands 
of  pages.  I  think  that  the  course  of  remark  I  have  made, 
and  the  illustrations  I  have  given,  are  sufficient  to  show 
that  it  is  not  a  mere  unreasoning  furore  which  has  created 
the  great  po^^ularity  IMi-.  Spurgeon  enjoys.  It  is  founded 
on  that  which  is  quite  real  and  worthy  of  him,  and  is  not 
at  all  to  be  set  aside  by  the  fact  that  there  may  be  minds 
desiderating  in  him  the  teaching  they  especially  desire.  It 
is  a  remarkable  circmnstance,  that  almost  the  only  one  of 


Pid2nt  Monographs :  Cliarles  Spuvrjeon.    213 

our  higher  order  of  reviews  which  has  spoken  of  him  with 
much  respect,  is  the  Dublin,  the  leading  Roman  Cathohc  re- 
view ;  and  its  estimate,  in  substance  kindly  exj^resscd,  was 
formed  in  1857,  when  he  was  in  the  fii'st  j^ears  of  his  gi-eat 
fame.  It  spoke  of  it  then  as  quite  inexphcablc,  and  as  v.'or- 
thy  of  some  speculation  and  inquh-y,  for  the  purpose  of 
reaching  the  cause. 

Considering  the  quai'ter  fi-om  whence  those  remarks 
came,  they  can  only  be  regarded  as  respectful  and  kind. 
But,  if  Llr.  Spui'geon  was  a  marvel  in  1857,  how  much 
more  is  he  a  marvel  now  ?  Unabated,  his  popularity  has 
grown  into  such  gigantic  proportions,  that,  as  I  have  said, 
the  instances  are  very  rare  that  at  all  resemble  it  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  Church,  I  can  conceive  a  cynic  re- 
gardmg  it  as  one  of  those  periodical  fits  of  madness  w^hich 
surprise  nations.  It  is  the  most  sober  and  orderly  madness 
the  world  or  the  Church  has  ever,  on  so  great  a  scale, 
known.  If  we  are  to  seek  for  causes  beyond  those  we  have 
noted,  for  the  power  and  the  success,  then  shall  we  not  also 
remember  one  or  two  other  things  ?  I  have  akeady  hinted 
at  the  amazing  work  wi'oughfc  at  the  Tabernacle — a  chiu'ch, 
I  beheve,  of  about  3,000  members  ;  a  college  pom-ing  its 
rough  and  ready-going  preachers  over  the  whole  coimtry  ; 
chaxDcls  rising,  evoked  b}'  some  magic  from  'Mx.  Spiu'geon 
and  his  band  of  workers.  But  there  are  triumphs  of  faith 
in  all  this.  A  little  passage  of  autobiograj^hy,  illustrating 
the  temper  of  the  preacher's  mind,  is  in  the  following  pas- 
sage from  one  of  his  sermons. 

You  know  how  we,  as  a  church,  have  been  led  to  sec  mysterious- 
ly the  hand  of  God.  I  recollect  one  night,  when  we  resolved  to 
build  this  house  of  prayer;  we  knew  that  we  were  poor,  much 
too  poor  ever  to  be  able  to  raise  so  large  a  sum  as  this  house 
would  cost,  especially  when  the  vow  was  registered  that  it 
sliould  never  be  l)uilt  with  borrowed  money,  Init  should  cither  bo 
paid  for  or  else  not  built  at  all ;  I  recollect  preaching  that  even- 
ing from  the  text,  "And  the  iron  did  swim,."  and  saying  that 


214       ^  Passage  from  the  Life  of  Faith. 

the  building  of  this  house  seemed  as  likely  a  thing  to  happen  as 
if  the  iron  should  swim  ;  but  I  said  I  was  glad  it  was  twenty- 
five  thousand  pounds  which  we  wanted,  for  if  it  had  been  only 
five  thousand  pounds,  or  ten  thousand  pounds,  we  might  feel  able 
to  raise  it ;  but  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  was  impossible,  only 
I  believed  that  God  could  do  impossibilities.  It  was  one  of  the 
most  singular  things  that  ever  occurred,  when  a  friend  at  a  dis- 
tance whom  I  never  saw  but  once  in  my  life,  and  who  had  no 
connection  with  us,  put  down  five  thousand  pounds  himself  to- 
wards it.  We  were  encouraged  ;  we  went  to  work  and  the  thing 
was  done ;  and,  as  it  went  on  more  and  more  singular  helps  were 
sent.  When  the  College  of  which  I  am  President  had  been  com- 
menced for  a  year  or  so,  all  my  means  stayed ;  my  purse  was 
dried  up,  and  I  had  no  other  means  of  carrying  it  on.  In  this 
very  house,  one  Sunday  evening,  I  had  paid  away  all  I  had  for 
the  supjoort  of  my  young  men  for  the  ministry.  There  is  a  dear 
friend  now  sitting  behind  me  who  knows  the  truth  of  what  I 
am  saying.  I  said  to  him,  "  There  is  nothing  left  whatever." 
He  said.  "  You  have  a  good  banker,  sir."  "  Yes,"  I  said,  "  and  I 
should  like  to  draw  upon  him  now,  for  I  have  nothing."  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  how  do  you  know  ?  have  you  prayed  about  it  ? " 
"  Yes,  I  have."  "  Well,  then,  leave  it  with  Him ;  have  you  open- 
ed your  letters  ? "  "  No,  I  do  not  open  my  letters  on  Sun- 
days." "  Well,"  said  he,  "  open  them  for  once."  I  did  so,  and 
in  the  first  one  I  opened  there  was  a  banker's  letter  to  this  ef- 
fect— "  Dear  Sir — We  beg  to  inform  you  that  a  lady,  totally  un- 
known to  us,  has  left  with  us  two  hundred  pounds  for  you,  to 
use  in  the  education  of  young  men."  Such  a  sum  has  never 
come  since,  and  it  never  came  before ;  and  I  have  no  more  idea 
than  the  dead  in  their  graves  how  it  came  then,  nor  who  it  came 
from,  but  to  me  it  seemed  that  it  came  directly  from  God.  We 
have  gone  on  ever  since  with  that  work  successfully,  and  are  re- 
solved to  launch  out  into  others ;  and  I  believe  that  we  only 
want  as  a  church,  and  your  pastor  only  wants  as  your  pastor,  to 
have  faith  in  God,  and  we  shall  find  Him  "  wonderful  in  coun- 
sel and  excellent  in  working."  Wherever  there  is  the  hand  of  a 
true  man,  there  is  the  wing  of  an  angel. 

Then  we  read  sometimes  of  the  immense  chapel — hold- 
ing about  5,  000  people — crammed  at  prayer-meetings  ;  and 


Pulpit  Ifonograplis :  Charles  Spur g eon.    2 1 5 

we  read  of  da^^s  set  apart  there  for  fasting  and  praj'cr.  All 
this  rei:)rescnts  gi'eat  spiritual  i^ower,  intense  faith,  that  be- 
lief in  the  Invisible,  "  Enduring-,  as  seemg  Him  who  is  In- 
visible," which  is  the  real  fountain  of  all  great  spiiitual  en- 
ergy ;  and  such  facts  as  these  ought  never  to  be  separated 
in  any  estunate  we  may  attempt  to  form  of  the  preacher. 
It  is  e\ddently  one  of  those  consecrated  hves  which  almost 
ignores  the  right  very  closely  to  criticise  ;  and  we  are  re- 
joiced to  perceive  thi'oughout  the  prefaces  to  these  volumes 
of  seimons,  a  tone  of  genuine  and  unaffected  modesty  very 
delightful  to  notice.  IVIr.  Spui-geon  regards  himself  less  as 
a  great  preacher  than  an  evangehst.  He  seems  to  be 
amazed  at  his  own  success,  and  almost  deprecates  the  idea 
of  the  possession  of  talent.     He  says  : — 

It  is  extraordinary  grace,  not  talent,  that  wins  the  day.  It  is 
extraordinary  spiritual  f)ower,  not  extraordinary  mental  power 
that  we  need.  Mental  power  may  fill  a  chapel;  but  sjDi ritual 
jDowcr  fills  the  church.  Mental  power  raay  gather  a  congrega- 
tion, but  spiritual  power  "uill  save  souls.  We  want  spiritual 
power.  Oh  !  we  know  some  before  whom  we  shrink  into  noth- 
ing as  to  talent,  but  who  have  no  spiritual  power ;  and  when  they 
speak,  they  have  not  the  Holy  Spirit  with  them ;  but  we  know 
others — simple-hearted,  worthy  men,  who  speak  their  country 
dialect,  and  who  stand  up  to  preach;  and  whether  it  be  in  a 
barn,  or  a  village  green,  the  Spirit  of  God  clothes  every  -word 
with  power.     *     *    *    * 

This  seems  to  explain  very  much  ;  unfastidious  boldness, 
intrepid  certainty,  mdefatigable  activity,  resolved  into  ''this 
one  thmg  I  do  " — this  seems  to  account  for  very  much. 

I  am  quite  aware,  IMr.  Spm-geon  himself  evidently,  by 
the  modest  words  of  the  preface  to  one  of  his  volumes,  is 
r.ware  of  the  points  m  which  we  must  not  compare  him  with 
some  of  the  gi*eat  preachers  of  our  age — for  instance,  with 
the  Dominican,  Lacordau*e,  with  Lo  Pore  Felix,  or  this  mo- 
ment's wonder  of  Paiis,  the  Carmelite,  Hyacuithe.  These 
names  suggest  some  resemblance,  and  as  instantly  forbid 


2i6     Frencli  P readier 8:  Felix ^  Ilyacintlie. 

comparison  ;  llicso  men,  excellent  and  devoted,  we  have  no 
doubt,  in  their  order  and  in  their  lives,  have  thronged  the 
immense  and  voluminous  aisles  of  Notre  Dame  ;  preachers 
^\dtll  wonderful  accents — saintly  men  we  hope,  we  desu-e  to 
beheve  ;  from  their  monasteries,  after  their  period  of  soh- 
tude  and  retreat,  of  introspection  and  thought,  it  has  been 
theu'  wont,  I  understand,  to  emerge  like  apparitions.  "With 
the  harangues  of  Hjacinthe  we  are  not  so  well  acquainted. 
Those  of  Lacordaire  and  Felix  are  well  known  to  us  ;  they 
are,  and  especially  those  of  the  first,  grand  and  majestic 
flights  ;  wheeling  sweeps  of  wings  of  astounding  power, 
sm'veying  from  the  air  of  the  mid-heaven  the  tangled  world, 
not  only  of  sin,  but  the  perplexed  convolutions  and  folds, 
and  coils  of  thought.  What  effect  they  have  produced  on 
Parisian  societ}^  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  ;  to  what  ex- 
tent impressions  are  gathered  up,  and  made  the  permanent 
f  Limiture  of  the  Church,  I  know  not.  We  know  what  great, 
intellectual,  and  magnificently-ai'tistic  preaching  usually  is  ; 
it  is  not  hkely  that  Lacordaire  produced  effects  more  pro- 
found than  Bossuet,  or  that  Hyacinthe  is  more  successful 
in  this  way  than  Massillon.  These  men,  great  as  we  know, 
good  as  we  hope  they  were  or  are,  aU  seemed  or  seem  to 
treasure  up  their  aphorisms,  impressions,  apt  illustrations, 
excursions  of  fancy,  sur[3rises  of  logic,  attained  gi'andeur 
of  soul,  by  long,  sohtary,  mental  communion :  then  comes 
the  annual  occasion,  and  all  the  fashion  of  Paris  throngs  to 
hsten  to  the  orator  who  varies  the  amusements  for  the 
great  city  with  the  last  opera  of  Meyerbeer.  This  is  not 
untrue  nor  unkind  ;  but  how  different  to  the  orator,  the  in- 
cessant talker,  the  plam,  imdignified  unpriest-like  youth  of 
the  tabernacle,  who  has  reared  for  himself  a  chui'ch,  for  his 
weekly  audiences,  holding  as  many  auditors  as  Notre  Dame, 
and  gathering  up  all  the  wares  of  his  eloquence  into  a 
plain,  resolute  English  working.  AVhat  shall  we  say  of  the 
two,  but,  that  the  one  is  thoroughly  French,  and  the  other 
iii  thoroughly  En^liLdi. 


V. 

On  the   Mental  Tools  and  Appa- 
ratus needful  for  the  Pulpit 


FTER  all  that  I  have  said,  I  am  still  reminded  of 
old  Cotton  Mather's  title  to  his  "  Manu  ductio  ad 
Ministerium  ; "  he  calls  it  "  The  Angels  Prepaiing 
to  Sound  the  Trumpet ; "  it  is  all  only  i^reparatiou 
to  the  end.*  I  have  vindicated  the  dignity  and  necessity  of 
the  preacher's  work,  I  beheve  in  its  reahty,  importance  and 
power.  I  confess,  while  all  or  many  of  the  vices  and  short- 
comings of  the  modern  pulpit  have  not  been  unaj^prehended 
by  me,  I  cannot,  with  Frederick  Robertson,  believe  "  that 

*  I  am  sure  I  do  well  in  commending  to  the  attention  of  young 
preachers  and  students  for  the  ministry,  Dr.  Mather's  valuable,  but 
now  quite  forgotten,  although  not  outlived  little  books.  In  addition 
to  that  I  have  noticed  above,  his  Student  and  Preacher ;  or  Direc- 
tions for  a  Candidate  for  the  Ministry,  there  are  his  Essays  to  do 
Good  ;  with  these  may  be  mentioned  The  Student  and  Pastor;  or, 
Directions  how  to  attain  to  Eminenre  and  Usefulness  in  those  respect- 
ice  Characters  :  by  John  Mason.  These  are  vigorous  and  animated 
Utile  books,  and  I  think  could  not  fail  of  usefulness  and  acceptance 
if  they  were  reprinted ;  they  have  an  anecdotal  and  aphoristic 
.sprightliness  about  them,  which  commends  them  to  young  minds; 
and  tluir  seriousness  of  purpose,  and  lieight  of  standard  for  attain- 
ment arc  well  calculated  to  promote  a  pious  ambition. 

SECO.ND    SERIES.         10  '^-'Z) 


2 1 8  I^'if^  Considered  as  a  Stntchire, 

it  tends  to  make  people  worse  instead  of  better,"  and  that 
the  excitement  of  the  preparation  "  demorahzcs  and  des- 
troys the  tone  of  the  heart,  and  unfits  for  duty  ; "  there  is 
a  side  of  truth,  no  doubt,  in  these  charges,  but  as  the 
statement  of  a  great  fact  they  are  not  true,  and  where  tme, 
they  ought  not  to  be  true  :  the  work  of  the  pulpit  ought  to 
be  robust,  healtliful,  and  invigorating,  afoimtain  of  strength 
to  the  preacher  hunself,  and  to  those  who  heai'  him  ;  look 
away  from  httle  aims  and  it  will  be  so  ;  httle  sentimentaH- 
ties  in  a  poor  httle  impoverished  character  may  have  the  ef- 
fect IVIr.  Robertson  describes,  and  there  is  a  strain  upon  the 
feelings  that  may  enei-vate  the  preacher,  even  as  the  poet, 
or  the  artist ;  the  preacher  must  cultivate  a  moral  health 
which  shall  rise  above  it.  When  a  young  man  full  of  vani- 
ties and  affectations  came  to  Robert  Hall  desiring  to  be  in- 
troduced into  the  ministry,  saying,  "  You  know,  LIi'.  HaU, 
I  must  not  hide  my  talents  in  a  napkin,"  ^Ir.  HaU  said 
"  Oh,  never  mind  about  a  napkin,  sir,  your  pocket-handker- 
chief will  do  very  well  for  that  purpose."  And  I  w^ant  you 
to  look  away  from  a  complacent  regard  of  your  talents  ; 
whatever  they  may  be,  they  will  always  need  the  spmt  of 
prayer,  and  the  life  of  culture,  and  they  will  always  fall 
short  of  the  grandeiu'  of  the  work,  which,  if  you  be  true 
ministers,  j^ou  have  set  before  you. 

One  of  the  first  thoughts  suggested  by  any  vast  pile  of 
architecture  is  the  sense  of  power  it  conveys — ^how  lives 
now  passed  away  wrought  at  this  ;  stand  in  imagination 
before  many  buildings,  such  as  the  Cathedrals  of  St.  Paul's, 
Notre-Dame,  Milan,  or  Cologne,  the  first  impression  is  the 
marvellous  sense  of  manifold  power  ;  every  part  conveys 
the  thought  of  power — ^it  was  reared  by  men — but  spu-e  or 
turret,  the  infinity  of  the  nave,  the  mysteiy  of  the  choir, 
the  charm  of  the  chapel,  the  fi'et,  or  the  corbel,  the  j)illars 
or  the  facade,  the  solemn  gloom  of  cr^-pt  and  cloister,  the 
dangerous  passages  of  the  triforium,  all  these  speak  of 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     2 1 9 

power.  Dogs  a  life  convey  less  the  idea  of  power  ?  a  liu- 
man  life,  a  life  builcliug  or  built,  a  noble  life,  a  life  with 
vast  powers  spent  on  vain  ^^ui'poses,  a  life  ch'eaming,  espe- 
cially a  life  achieving,  life  winning  battles,  Hke  a  Welling- 
ton, a  Marlborough,  a  Livingstone.  Life  wnting  poems, 
like  a  Tennyson,  a  Wordsworth,  or  a  David.  Life  discov- 
ering, like  a  Columbus,  a  Watt,  or  a  Newton.  Is  not  the 
chief  charm  of  such  hves,  after  that  which  they  have  given 
us,  the  sense  of  power  they  convey,  they  rise  like  buildings, 
mighty  fanes,  vast  and  awful  to  the  eye. 

And  has  it  not  often  occuiTcd  to  you  to  notice  the  differ- 
ence, the  essential  difference  between  what  we  call  a  Gre- 
cian building  like  St.  Paul's,  and  a  Gotliic  building  like 
AVestminster  Abbey.  St.  Paul's  and  all  like  it,  doric,  ionic, 
or  any  such  style.  How  smooth,  how  untroubled,  it  looks ! 
how  complete,  how  finished,  how  elegant,  what  a  imity  in 
it ;  it  says,  or  seems  to  say,  "  I  am  at  home,  and  I  am  con- 
tent ;  "  it  is  the  veiy  architecture  of  a  well-to-do,  optimistic 
citizen.  Sometimes  it  is  even  grand  in  its  repose  of  luxm*- 
ious  gi'ace.  But  the  gothic,  on  the  contrary,  with  its  huge 
shapelessness,  its  unfinished  mysterious  infinity  of  dark  and 
shadow^'  recesses,  where  the  hght  hngers,  and  the  worship- 
per may  hide  himself  from  sight,  and  joy  in  harmony  with 
the  sound  of  worship.  Crocket  and  wreathed  pillars,  and 
sharp  acanthus,  if  found  in  the  gothic,  how  it  says,  the 
whole  gothic  architecture,  "  I  suffer  and  I  struggle,  but  I 
aspire."  I  never  think  of  it  in  contrast  to  the  classical,  but 
see  how  truly  ideas  write  themselves  in  stone.  The  Grecian 
architecture  is  the  very  transcript  of  that  mind  wliich,  in 
its  sublime  indifference  and  sceptic  scorn,  reared  temples 
gi'aceful,  but  irreverent.  The  gothic  has  the  very  imprint 
of  that  idea  conveyed  in  those  words, — "  I  came  not  to  send 
peace  on  eai*th,  but  a  sword,"  it  is  the  offspring  and  repre- 
sentation of  a  stiTiggling  soul. 

This  then  is  the  effect  of  the  two  architectui*cs  of  life,  this 


220  What  Tends  to  Ji^dify. 

is  the  result  of  the  two  life  bmldings.  "  I  am  at  home,  I 
am  content,"  on  the  contrar}^,  "I  suffer,  I  struggle,  but  I 
asph'e." 

But  I  have  no  design  this  morning  to  dwell  upon  those 
which  are  the  first  and  most  important  preparations  of  all. 
As  Jeremy  Taylor  says,  in  his  admirable  sermon  before  the 
University  of  Dublin,  entitled,  "  Via  Intelligentia  :  sho^ving 
by  what  means  the  Scholar  shall  become  most  learned  and 
useful :  " — "In  this  inquiry  I  must  take  one  tiling  for  a  pre- 
cognitum,  that  every  good  man  is  Theodidaktos — he  is 
taught  of  God,  and,  indeed,  unless  He  teach  us,  we  shall 
make  ill  scholars  ourselves,  and  worse  guides  to  others.  If 
God  teaches,  then  all  is  well  ;  but,  if  we  do  not  learn  w^is- 
dom  at  His  feet,  fi'om  whence  should  we  have  it  ?  It  can 
come  from  no  other  sj^ring  ;  and,  therefore,  it  naturally  foL 
lov/s  that,  by  how  much  nearer  we  are  to  God,  by  so  much 
shall  w^e  be  better  instructed."  On  all  this  it  does  not  need 
that  I  dwell  at  all ;  it  is  by  love  to  God,  and  the  truth  of 
God  that  we  shall  become  the  most  able  muiisters  of  the 
New  Testament.  True  ever  is  it,  "  Knowledge  puffeth  up, 
but  love  buildeth  up  ;  "  and  no  sermons  can  edify,  and  no 
Scriptures  rear  up  a  holy  building,  except  as  the  love  of 
God  is  shed  abroad  in  the  heart.  Let  me  beg  you  not  to 
take  these  words  as  words  of  coiu'se.  Coleridge  has  well 
said,  "  An  hour  of  sohtude  passed  in  sincere  and  earnest 
prayer,  or  the  conflict  with,  and  conquest  over  a  single  pas- 
sion or  subtle  bosom  sin,  wdll  teach  us  more  of  thought, 
will  more  effectually  awaken  the  facult}^  and  form  the  habit 
of  reflection,  than  a  year's  study  in  the  schools  without 
them."  *  Holiness  is  the  best  wisdom,  and  holiness  is  the 
surest  way  of  understanding ;  and  if  it  be  inquired,  Is  a 
godly  man  better  able  to  determine  the  questions  of  trans- 
substantiation  or  purgatory  ?  or  the  chaste  man  better  able 
to  reconcile  the  casuistries  of  Hamilton,  Cousin,  or  Kant  ? 
*  Aids  to  llrll'jction.     Vol.  I.,  5. 


On  tliG  Mental  Tools  and  Aj^pa^'atus.     221 

or,  is  a  temperate  man  a  better  scholar  than  a  chiinkard  ? 
I  reply,  that  holmess  of  life  claiilies  the  mstrument  of 
knowledge,  and  that  principle  of  spii-itual  discernment  by 
which  truths  are  really  known  ;  this  is  not  always  done  by 
what  we  call  helps  and  aids.  Erasmus  testifies,  that  when 
he  first  read  the  New  Testament  with  fear,  and  a  good  mind 
and  a  purpose  to  understand  it  and  obey  it,  he  found  it 
very  useful  and  very  pleasant ;  but,  when  afterwards  he  fell 
on  reading  the  vast  differences  of  commentaries,  then  he  un- 
derstood it  less  than  he  did  before,  and  began  not  to  under- 
stand it ;  and  we  ought  to  remember  what  Plutarch  tells 
us,  that  when  Eudamidas,  the  son  of  Archidamus,  heard 
old  Xenocrates  disputing  about  wisdom,  he  asked  very  so- 
berly, "  If  the  old  man  be  yet  disputing  and  inquiring  con- 
cerning wisdom,  what  time  will  he  have  to  make  use  of  it  ?  " 
This  then,  is  the  fii'st  thing  to  attain — a  holy  wisdom,  a 
wise  holiness.  Yet,  of  coui'se,  there  is  a  mechanical  and 
material  apparatus,  with  which  you  should  provide  your- 
selves. The  chemist  has  his  apparatus,  his  fui-nace,  his  all 
embics,  his  phials  for  tlie  preservation  of  his  essences.  He 
cannot  work  \\ithout  them  ;  he  needs  his  laboratoiy  and 
the  furnitui'e  of  his  laboratory,  and  the  surgeon  has  his 
apx^aratus — he  cannot  effect  his  cui-e  without — bright,  shin- 
ing, cruel  instruments  the}''  are,  too  ;  but  the  secrets  of  life 
and  disease  would  not  be  laid  bare,  nor  would  the  disease 
be  aiTested  without  them.  Every  profession  has  its  a]ipa- 
ratus  and  its  tools,  more  or  less  simple  or  complicated — 
the  geologist  his  little  iron  mallet ;  the  bell- founder,  his 
f  lu-nace  and  his  fire.  The  apparatus  differs  with  the  work  ; 
the  blasting  of  a  mine  ;  the  amputation  of  an  arm  ;  the 
grafting  of  a  tree  or  plant ;  the  evolution  of  an  essence. 
AVhat  do  you  seek  to  do  ?  In  all  things  this,  perhaps,  de- 
termines the  tools  and  the  quantity  of  them,  and  wo  may 
remember  that,  "  the  number  of  the  tools  docs  not  give 
the  quality  of  the  work,  but  the  hand  and  the  eye  of  the 


222  ^The  Use  of  Tools. 

•workman  does."  I  believe  one  of  the  great  mistakes  of 
our  modern  student-life  is,  that  we  devote  more  time  and 
preparation  to  the  tools  than  to  the  work.  Some  foreigner 
asked  AVollaston,  the  great  chemist,  to  show  him  his  labora- 
tory. He  rung  the  bell,  and  his  servant  brought  in  a  common 
round  tra^^,  on  which  "  were  a  few  glasses  and  a  retort  or 
two."  "  That,"  said  Wollaston,  "  is  my  laboratory !  "  On 
the  contrary,  we  become  confused  with  the  superfluity  of 
our  tools.  What  is  all  this  bathos  and  cant  we  hear  often, 
for  it  is  little  more,  about  the  "  artist " — the  artist  age. 
Preachers  must  be  artists  !  I  do  declare,  I  am  disposed  some 
times  to  say  with  Thomas  Carlyle,  "  May  the  Devil  fly  away 
with  the  fine  arts."  We  may  be  sure  of  this  whenever  we  aim 
at  diction,  for  its  own  sake,  for  instance,  we  surely  miss  that 
for  which  we  aim,  and,  of  course,  we  miss  that  to  which 
that  aim  should  be  dedicated.  Can  it  be  believed  that  Ho- 
mer, or  Shakespeare,  or  Milton,  or  Walter  Scott  could  ever 
have  aimed  chiefly  and  especially  at  style — style  for  its  own 
sake  ?  Never !  Thought  fused  their  words  ;  thought  burnt 
along  their  soul ;  their  object  was  within,  beautiful  words 
came  inspired  by  beautiful  emotions  and  beautiful  thoughts. 
So  must  it  ever  be  ;  but  we,  many  of  us,  we  are  like  men 
troubled  about  so  many  things  in  our  serving,  that  we  for- 
get the  chief  end  of  oui'  servmg.  Diction,  Elocution,  Rhe- 
torical power !  We  are  like  men  who,  before  a  besieged 
city,  act  as  if  on  the  parade-ground  ;  a  real  life  and  death 
business  is  before  us,  and  we  are  attending  to  the  shaj^e  of 
om-  epaulettes,  the  crease  of  our  coat,  the  ghtter  of  om*  adorn- 
ments ;  and  we  have  our  holiday  displays,  and  mock  en- 
gagements, and  trials  of  skill.  We  dissipate  our  energy  in 
our  display,  and  we  expect  a  divine  blessing  upon  our 
pretty  human  accomplishments,  and  our  tools  seem  to  be 
the  words  of  wisdom  as  man  teacheth.*  There  is  danger 
that  these  are  regarded  as  our  tools  then  ;  the  expectations 
*  Dr.  Newman's  Lectures  on  University  Subjects,  190. 


Oil  (lie  Mental  Tools  and  Apimratm.     223 

of  the  chiirclies  fi-om  the  ministry  are  extravagant  and  pre- 
posterous. "  Are  all  pastors  and  teachers  ?  "  said  the  ajio.s- 
tles.  "Well/'  say  the  chm*ches,  "we  must  have  it  so. 
Every  man  a  pastor  and  teacher  ;  every  man  an  apostle  and 
a  prophet ;  every  man  to  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist, 
helps  and  governments,  and  diversities  of  tongues,  and 
gifts  and  heahngs,  too,  if  possible."  Although  about  this 
last  there  may  be  a  little  matter  of  doubt  ;  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, for  all  this  a  large  chest  of  tools  is  required. 

It  follows  from  this  almost  of  coiu'se,  that  men  have  come 
to  believe  too  much  in  tools — too  exclusively  in  tools,  as  if 
the  tool  could  do  it.  Many  students  act  as  wisely  as  he 
should  who  supposed,  that  having  acquired  his  chest  of 
tools,  and  having  placed  it  by  the  side  of  the  plank  of  wood 
— ^the  wood  would  start  up  a  table  or  a  chair.  No  ;  tools 
need  hand  and  eye,  force  and  perception.  It  is  also  note- 
worthy that  often  the  pulpit  artist — if  I  am  to  speak  of 
him  thus — deals,  almost  necessarilj^  veiy  differently  TN-ith 
his  tools,  to  the  way  in  wliich  other  artists  deal  -with  theks. 
The  young  painter  is  really  at  his  work  ;  his  knowledge  of 
colors,  and  the  effect  of  form,  of  hght,  of  shade ;  his  easel, 
his  palette,  his  canvas — these  are  his  tools,  and  he  is  at  work 
for  the  end  at  which  he  aims  with  these.  It  is  so  with  the 
yomig  sculptor  ;  each  stroke  of  his  chisel,  each  mould  ho 
takes — the  i^laster  and  the  stone,  these  are  all  real  tools 
tending  to  real  effects.  Something  is  done  with  every  les- 
son ;  even  the  httle  smith  or  the  little  caii^entcr,  he  is 
learning  to  drive  a  nail ;  a  gi'and  feat  that ;  to  hold  and  to 
use  a  saw  ;  he  has  done  something  to  make  his  work  eas- 
ier, he  has  real  knowledge.  Now  with  the  student  foi-  the 
mhiistry,  this  by  no  means  follows,  excej^t  as  he  mtemal- 
ises  his  work.  Usually,  the  student  makes  the  gi'cat  mis- 
take of  supposing  that,  acqmring  the  use  of  tools,  he  has 
acquired  his  work.  Now  it  is  done.  No  ;  all  has  to  bo 
done  :  he  has  eveiything  to  do  ;  knowledge  of  languages, 


224  Voltaire's  Definition. 

knowledge  of  history,  knowledge  of  plij'sical  science.  All 
these  arc  to  bo  received  into  a  deeper  consciousness  ;  they 
are  to  he  there,  they  are  to  die  there,  that  they  may  bring 
forth  fruit.  It  is  true  of  knowledge  in  the  soul,  as  of  many 
things  in  the  deep  words  of  our  Lord,  "  it  is  not  quickened 
except  it  die."  As  the  hills  are,  on  their  summits,  bleak, 
and  hard,  and  lifeless,  and  bare,  but  washed  down  by  the 
attiitive  force  of  rains  and  winds  ;  they  turn  into  an  allu- 
vial earth  and  feed  the  seeds  and  become  the  soil  over 
which  waves  the  harvest  crop.  So  facts  and  tiniths  are 
dead  in  themselves  ;  they  are  hard  and  stony  as  mountain 
chains  ;  but  resolved  into  the  soul  how  different !  they  be- 
come the  earth  of  the  soul — they  become  the  soil,  nay,  they 
become  the  very  harvest  and  vintage  of  the  soul.  Gener- 
ally, I  expect  to  find  M.A.,  and  B.A.,  and  LL.B.'s,  especial 
dmices  to  all  the  higher  forms  of  truth  or  reading ;  they 
have  the  wood  and  the  tools,  and  they  marvel  they  do  not 
become  tables  ;  perhaps  they  have  used  them  to  make  cof- 
fins. 

Do  you  know  Voltaire's  definition  of  a  doctor  or  physi- 
cian ?  "  One  who  pom^s  drugs  of  which  he  knows  httle, 
into  a  body  of  which  he  knows  less."  But  how  often  this 
also  might  be  the  definition  of  a  preacher,  and  how  shock- 
ing if  it  should  be  so  ;  one  who  pom^s  truths  of  which  he 
knows  little  into  the  souls  of  which  he  knows  less.  "Wo 
may  surely  say,  this  will  be  the  case  alwaj^s,  where  the 
tools  are  regarded  more  than  the  work  ;  and  j^et,  let  me 
now  say  a  word  from  the  other  side.  It  is  most  necessary 
that  we  have  tools  ;  scholarship,  if  not  our  own,  then  other 
men's,  and  that  w^e  know  how  to  use  other  men's.  "With 
us,  indeed,  the  relation  of  the  scholar  to  the  preacher  is 
not  at  all  defined.  Independents  and  Baptists  have  no 
place  for  the  scholars  ;  we  have  no  foundations,  no  fellow- 
ships, no  halls  of  learning ;  we  have  no  place  of  learned 
leisui'e  to  examine.     If  a  man  cannot  i^reach,  and  j-et  is 


On  tlie  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     225 

poor,  what  can  we  do  wdtli  him  ?  He  may  be  a  veiy  Cu- 
\ier  in  his  piercing  intuitions  of  insight  and  wisdom,  but 
he  must  get  his  bread  in  some  way,  and  be  distracted  with 
these  many  cares,  and  be  soured  and  embittered  by  the 
hard  cnists  of  life.  Have  we  not  many  such,  whose  ao- 
comphshments  and  genius  would  have  adorned  us,  but 
whom  we  have  left  to  starve  without  books,  without  liter- 
ary society,  because  they  could  not  preach  in  such  a  way 
as  to  command  a  .congregation  able  to  enable  them  to  Hve. 
Yet  fi'om  such  men  you  will  have  to  derive  much  ;  fi'om 
their  sagacity,  from  their  learning  they  will  furnish  you 
with  tools,  criticisms,  openings  of  texts,  volumes,  perhaps 
which  they  wrote  while  almost  starving,  and  which  never 
yielded  them  a  penny.  Humble  men,  some  oi  these  have 
produced  books,  the  mere  reading  of  which  has  inflated 
and  inflamed  the  vanity  of  the  talkers  ;  the  men  not  able 
to  make  their  own  tools,  but  able  admirably  to  use  those 
placed  in  theii'  hands.  No,  let  us  by  no  means  despise 
tools  and  helps.  It  would  be  like  the  contempt  Lord 
Kames  expressed  for  manui'e.  In  a  conversation  with  his 
gardener,  he  said  one  day :  "  George,  the  time  will  come 
when  a  man  shall  be  able  to  carry  all  the  manui-e  for  an 
acre  of  gi'ound  in  one  of  his  waistcoat  pockets."  "I  be- 
heve  it,  su-,"  said  the  gardener,  "  but  he  will  then  be  able 
to  carry  all  the  crop  in  the  other."  And  the  truest  means 
is  labor,  labor,  labor — industry,  and  this  will  conquer,  and 
this  nothing  can  supersede.  I  have  heard  of  a  bishop  who 
always  insisted  on  the  Greek  of  those  he  ordained.  "  They 
may  deceive  me,"  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  when  they  talk  of 
Christian  experience  and  the  divine  call,  but  they  cannot 
deceive  me  in  Greek." 

By  tools  and  apparatus,  then,  I  mean  the  mechanical 

appUances  and  helps — always  remembering  that    to  the 

preacher  especially  may  be  appropriated  the  language  of 

the  Welsh  Triads  on  Genius.     "  The  three  foundations  of 

10* 


226  Concerning  Books, 

genius  are  the  gift  of  God,  human  exertion,  and  the  events 
of  hfe.  The  first  three  requisitions  of  genius  are  an  eye 
to  see  nature,  a  heart  to  feel  it,  and  a  resolution  that  dares 
follow  it.  The  three  things  indispensable  to  genius  are 
understanding,  meditation,  and  perseverance.  The  thi-ee 
tokens  or  proofs  of  genius  are  extraordinaiy  understand- 
ing, extraordinary  conduct,  and  extraordinary  exertions. 
The  three  things  that  improve  genius  are  proper  exertion, 
frequent  exertion,  and  successful  exertion."  There  are 
things  with  which  the  richest,  and  the  most  accomplished, 
and  thoroughly  fiu'nished  mind  cannot  dispense.  Can  we 
do  without  books  ?  I  know  the  fumitui-e  of  some  noble 
minds  has  been  in  this  way  but  small.  I  know  also  that 
the  worth  and  the  wealth  of  production  depends,  not  upon 
the  multitude  of  books,  but  upon  the  mind  working,  and 
the  material  wrought  upon  ;  and  it  is  sad  to  think  how 
little  any  of  us  have  to  spend  on  books,  the  best  of  us — 
exceptmg  one  or  two  instances  only — with  the  salaiy  of  a 
third-rate  clerk,  and  a  disposition  to  dip  into  all  the  schol- 
arships beneath  the  heavens.  But  we  must  have  books, 
and  if  we  use  them  well,  and  arrange  them  well,  we  shall 
make  a  few  go  far,  we  must  make  all  our  books  jdeld.  And 
they  will  be  among  our  most  important  tools.  Ministers 
are  neither  to  be  bookworms  nor  libraiians.  But  not  to 
know  books,  not  to  have  a  taste  for  books,  not  to  love 
books,  not  to  gi'ouj)  the  study  round  with  books,  this 
is  to  cut  oui'selves  off  from  our  heritage  in  the  past, 
in  the  distant,  in  the  curious.  Books  do  more  ;  they 
bring  facts  to  us  ;  they  draw  our  natui-e  out  of  us  ;  they 
make  us  acquainted  with  ourselves  ;  they  are  hints,  they 
are  maps.  I  know  how  vain  they  are  without  a  study  of 
human  nature  too,  as  Mr.  Pycroft  says  in  his  "Twenty 
Years  in  the  Church,  *'  Some  coimtry  clerg}TQan  on  being 
asked  whether  he  studied  the  Fathers,  said  no,  the  fathers 
were  generally  at  work  in  the  fields,  but  he  always  studied 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Aj^paratus.     227 

tho  mothers.  A  mere  bookman  is  not  a  very  higli  t}-pe  of 
being  ;  but  a  minister,  I  say,  who  does  not  love  books,  he 
cuts  himseK  off  fi-om  abounding  means  of  instniction  and 
edification,  from  many  a  soothing  influence  at  the  end  of 
the  weary  day,  and  fi'om  much  happy  help  and  aid  in  the 
prosecution  of  aU  that  work,  ever,  it  is  to  be  supposed, 
dearest  to  hun.  Remembeiing  always  that  you  are  ever 
learning,  you  will  never  cease  learning  ;  ages  infinite  will 
crowd  to  your  feet  with  all  their  treasures,  and  heavens 
infinite  pour  down  upon  you  all  their  wealth.  Of  the  min- 
ister in  his  study,  with  holy  volumes  and  meditations,  it 
may  especially  be  said  to  him  are  given  "the  precious 
things  of  heaven  ;  the  dew  and  the  deep  that  coucheth  be- 
neath ;  the  precious  fruits  brought  forth  by  the  sun  ;  the 
precious  things  put  forth  by  the  moon  ;  the  chief  things  of 
the  ancient  mountains  ;  the  precious  things  of  the  ever- 
lasting hills  ;  the  precious  things  of  the  earth  and  the  full- 
ness thereof."  And,  over  all,  "the  good-will  of  Him  that 
dwelt  in  the  bush." 

But  this  I  say  of  the  love  of  books  in  general.  I  may 
also  remark,  I  trust,  with  no  risk  of  being  misunderstood, 
that  I  think  it  is  one  of  the  most  healthy,  even  desh-ablo 
occupations,  for  the  pastor  occasionally  to  take  a  book  and 
X^reach  it.  A  book  strikes  you  ;  it  holds  and  rivets  yow  ; 
it  is  a  powerful,  strong,  useful  book  ;  the  chain  of  the  ar- 
gument is  very  interesting  to  you.  You  have  read  it ;  you 
feel  that  something  is  won  by  it.  But  you  feel  that  some- 
thing is  defective  in  it.  You  see  over  a  chapter,  it  may  be  ; 
you  look  beyond  it.  Now,  if  j'ou  were  a  reviewer,  you 
would  review  that  book.  But  bemg  ordy  a  minister,  you 
throw  it  by,  and  it  is  soon  forgotten.  But  why  not  preach 
it  ?  popularise  it  unconsciously  to  your  audience  ?  reply  to 
it ;  turn  it  into  other  language.  See,  ai^propriate,  enlarge 
upon  its  illustrations  and  its  arguments  ;  there  will  be  no 
dishonesty  here,  and  much  profit.     As  your  taste  leads — 


22  8  A  General  Love  of  Books ^  etc, 

and  your  taste  will  be  yeiy  mucli  that  of  your  audience, 
and  that  of  your  audience  yours — do  this  occasionally  -^dth 
the  old  books  and  the  new.  Ah,  if  you  would  condense 
feehngly  thus,  John  Howe's  "  Blessedness  of  the  Right- 
eous," or  "The  Vanity  of  Man  as  Mortal/'  or  "The  Dom- 
inion of  Christ  over  the  Invisible  World,"  or  "  The  Living 
Temi)le  ;"  or  treat  thus  the  essays  of  Alexander  Knox,  or 
the  noble  work  of  Edward  Ii-ving,  on  "  The  Incarnation  ;" 
or  to  turn  back,  treat  thus  Culverwell's  "Light  of  Nature." 
Suppose  you  put  down,  and  put  into  sermons,  the  magnifi- 
cent argimient  of  my  dear  friend,  Dr.  John  Young,  "  The 
Chi-ist  of  History.*'  Only  be  honest:  let  all  be  v\a'ought 
into  the  textiu-e  of  your  own  mind.  ^Made  all  yours,  and 
you  will  soon  see  how  you  are  acquiring  for  yourself  a 
large  amount  of  mental  furniture,  and  how  you  are  also 
enriching  your  people.  And  sajdng  this,  it  is  like  the  same 
general  remarks  upon  the  love  of  the  Scriptm-es,  and  the 
general  reading  them  ;  there  must  be  a  general  love,  and 
a  particular  love — a  love  for  itself  and  for  its  o^^^l  sake, 
a  love  also  for  its  relation  to  the  great  and  chief  end  we 
have  in  view.  I  do,  undoubtedly,  think  that  the  two  most 
valuable  acquisitions  of  the  mechanical  soii;  for  a  minister, 
are  a  general  love  of  books,  and  a  good  pair  of  eyes  :  the 
power  in  the  first  to  see  things  with  the  eyes  of  other  men  ; 
the  power  second,  to  see  things  with  his  own.  Undoubt- 
edly, I  should  set  the  last  even  higher  than  the  first,  but 
why  not  both  ?  why  not  both  ?  This  last  power  indeed — 
the  power  of  a  good  pair  of  eyes,  is  that  possessed  in  so 
large  a  measure  by  Ward  Beecher  ;  it  is  this  which  gives 
to  his  sermons  that  wonderful  fulness  of  illustration  which 
is  their  chief  characteristic.  We  have  this  power  evid- 
enced in  his  last  irablished  volume,  "Eyes  and  Eai-s."  A 
charming  book,  but  especially  iQustrating  how  sermons 
may  be  preached  from  everything,  by  a  man  who  has  liis 
eyes  open.     In  this  volume  all  the  images  are  not,  of  coiu'se. 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     229 

of  tliis  descriiDtion,  but  it  is  sufficiently  illustrative  of  tliis, 
that  the  jireacher  is  especially  to  be  sure  that  he  has  a  good 
pair  of  eyes.  And  what  shai-p-sighted  people  these  mas- 
ters of  fiction  are,  masters  and  misti-esses  too  ;  how  quickly 
they  catch  up  things.  How  they  see  all  the  sides  of  thhigs, 
and  the  insides  of  things — and  why  should  not  we  ?  and 
I  have  often  thought  that  the  very  perfection  of  pulpit 
talk,  when  it  does  not  lise  above  talk,  would  be  the  style  in 
the  "  Reci'eations  of  the  Country  Parson."  So  homety,  so 
pleasant  and  cheerful ;  it  is  the  talk  of  a  man  who  has 
thought  a  good  deal  about  common  things ;  iind  a  very 
large  amount  of  your  power  over  your  audience  in  dealiiig 
with  the  uncommon — the  kingdom  of  distant  truths,  great 
truths  which  you  would  have  your  audience  to  perceive — 
will  arise  fi'om  your  giving  them  to  know  that  you  have 
touched  and  handled  httle  ones.  Show  them  that  you  are 
well  acquainted  with  the  coast  and  ba}^  in  order  that  they 
may  trust  you  when  they  have  with  you  to  put  out  to  the 
great  and  -^dde  sea.  The  tools  of  yom*  ministi-y  lie  all 
around  you.  Happy  you,  to  be  able  to  take  the  common- 
est thing,  and  to  sm'round  it  "^dth  a  gloiy,  to  give  a  lesson 
about  it  that  shaU  abide.  Every  mean  thing,  every  Httle 
thing,  every  obscure  tiling,  and  every  human  thing,  may 
be  a  tool  with  which  you  work  your  way  to  a  truth.  And 
for  this  iiTesistible  force  what  can  be  of  sufficient  power  ? 
"  WTio,"  said  the  ax30stle,  "  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?'* 
And  Horace  says,  "  Can  ive  expect  words  to  be  composed 
icorthy  to  he  preserved  in  Cedar  or  in  Cypress  icJien  once  the 
mst  and  care  of  ivealth  hath  tainted  the  mind/'  Those  men 
preached  best  who  preached  even  at  the  stake  and  in  the 
dungeon.  None  have  transcended  hun  in  preaching  who 
"  suffered  the  loss  of  all  thmgs  ;"  but  that  which  interferes 
with  the  settled  calm  of  the  mind  ;  the  repose  ;  the  eleva- 
tion above  Easter,  and  time — all  this  interferes  with  the 
true  piu-chaso  and  power,  and  is  a  non-conductor  to  that 


2 'JO         Criticism:  Ohliausen ;  Lange. 

influence  whicli  might  be  immortal  leverage.  I  hope  I 
shall  not  touch  too  closely  upon  the  province  of  those  bet- 
ter able  than  I  am  to  speak  upon  the  other  departments. 
Bibhcal  criticism  is  a  tool  you  must  of  course  make  yours  ; 
it  has  done  wonderful  things  wdthin  the  last  years,  and  you 
have  quite  imderstood  me  to  deprecate  the  general  use  of 
enticism  ui  the  pulpit,  but  you  should  none  the  less  use  it 
for  yourselves  in  private.  In  this,  as  iu  other  matters,  let 
results  declare  processes,  and  while  you  use  some  old 
books,  only  conditioning  their  use  by  judiciousness,  you 
will  not  fail  to  use  some  new.  The  criticisms  of  Olshausen 
I  are  usually  admirable  and  simple  ;  but  as  the  guide  to  a 
j  method  for  opening  a  chapter,  I  think  I  must  give  my 
/  y  higher  word  to  Lange.  He  has  not,  perhaps,  the  original 
grammatical  and  etjTnological  insight  of  Olshausen,  but 
he  has  a  greater  variety  of  useful  excellencies,  and  espe- 
cially for  comparatively  unfurnished  minds  ;  and  my  com- 
mendation of  Lange  to  you  is  also  founded  on  this,  that 
he,  beyond  any  other  critic  of  his  order,  combines  the  three 
great  deioaiiments  of  the  preacher's  thought,  the  critical, 
the  doctrinal,  and  the  homiletical.  Too  much  we  use  the 
liomiletical  alone  ;  but  for  ourselves,  we  must  use  the  crit- 
ical method,  and  for  our  hearers  we  must  use  the  docti-in- 
al.  And  should  there  not  be  caution — Keep  it  nine  years. 
You  have  all  heard  that  famous  maxim  of  Horace — Non- 
umque prematur  in  annum — "Let  it  be  suppressed  for  nine 
years,"  and  we  may  act  on  the  spirit  of  this  cautious  ad- 
vice, so  far  that  all  new  ideas,  and  strange  ideas— aU  her- 
etical ideas— thoughts  and  thiugs  which  jeopardise  oiu- 
usefulness ;  which  assault  the  opinions  of  ages  ;  which 
seem  to  contravene  the  best  experience  of  ^holy  souls  and 
sainted  men — they  may  possibly  be  true  ;  it  may  be  your 
duty  to  publish  them  ;  but,  probably,  it  may  not ;  there- 
fQi;e — "  rut  it  by  for  nine  years."  Another  important  piece 
of  apparatus  is  the  close  and  distinct  study  of  sacred  gco- 


On  tlie  Mental  Tools  and  Aiyparahis.     23 1 

gi-ajDliy  :  this  is  also  light  and  it  is  power.  Surely,  Stan- 
ley's Sinai  and  Palestine  must  be  a  hand-book  to  those,  too 
who  have  not  visited  the  Holy  Land,  and  this  is  a  study  as 
delightful  as  it  is  useful.  Use  sacred  geography,  so  that  in 
your  hands  the  story  lives  again,  and  lives  anew.  This 
will  give  freshness  to  the  history,  and  it  will  give  vigor,  and 
point,  and  reality  to  the  pictui-e.  I  would  not  have  you  to 
be  in  the  pulpit  a  mere  topogi-apher  ;  but  youi-  knowledge 
may  be  given  in  a  touch,  a  hint,  setting  the  scene,  as  in  a 
stereoscope,  to  the  e^-e.  Without  this  knowledge  a  good 
many  references  must  be  quite  dark  to  you.  Learn  the  lo- 
cahties  of  the  tribes.  Geograjohy  is  one  of  the  eyes  of 
histoiy  ;  the  events  w^ere  what  they  were  because  the  scenes 
were  also  what  they  were.  Realize  for  yourselves  the 
heights  and  passes  of  Benjamin  ;  the  gi-eat  battle  field  of 
Israel ;  the  gi'ound  of  Bethhoron  ;  the  Marituno  Plain  ;  the 
dispositions  of  the  trans- Jordanic  tribes,  realize  all  these  ; 
these  should  live  in  3'our  eye  as  in  a  map.  You  cannot 
read  with  all  the  interest  with  which  you  might,  even  if 
you  read  with  all  the  instruction,  unless  you  use  this  as 
one  of  the  tools  of  your  ministry.  I  will  not  cite  instances, 
I  will  simply  say,  take  Stanley's  Sinai  and  Palestine^  and 
completely  absorb  it  into  your  knowledge. 

Consider  again  what  are  the  ways  and  means  of  minis- 
terial usefulness.  Rather  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  have  i^assed  away  since  Dr.  Cotton  Mather  pubhshed 
his  E.-^says  to  do  Good.  That  little  valuable  suggestive  l)ook 
occupies  a  i:)lace  in  the  literature  of  benevolent  activity 
similar  to  that  occupied  by  Watts's  Lnprovement  of  the 
Mind,  in  the  hterature  of  mental  discipline.  I  suppose  it 
is  seldom  read,  and  even  not  much  known ;  indeed,  the 
suggestions  of  its  pages  have  now  been  incori^orated  and 
framed  mto  institutions,  but  it  is  still  a  book  to  set  the 
right  sort  of  soul  on  fire  ;  a  noble  stimulant  to  ministerial 
activity  and  zeal.     Its  singularly  happy  quotations,  its  an- 


232       Way s^  etc.,  of  Ministerial  Usefulness, 

ecdotcs,  its  rapid  and  noble  glances  of  appeal,  should  have 
saved  it  fi'om  the  neglect  into  which  it  has  fallen.  But,  of 
course,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  such  a  book,  with  all  its 
vivacity,  is  gi'eatly  superseded,  and  the  receipts  for  the 
ways  to  do  good  now,  in  our  vast  populations  especially, 
need  at  once  a  comprehensiveness  and  a  concentrativeness 
to  which  our  fathers,  especially  one  hundi-ed  and  fifty 
years  since,  were  strangers.  It  is  true,  too,  that  in  doing 
good  in  our  day,  more,  perhaps,  than  at  any  previous  pe- 
riod, the  grace  and  gift  of  exceeding  prudence  is  needed. 
There  are  many  persons  in  our  own  day  prepared  to  act 
upon  the  spu'it,  if  not  to  use  the  language  of  the  Ephe- 
sians,  when  they  expelled  the  best  of  their  citizens,  "  If 
they  are  determined  to  excel  theu*  neighbors,  let  them  find 
another  place  to  do  it."  Yet  says  the  writer  to  whom  I 
have  referred,  Dr.  Cotton  Mather,  "  of  all  the  trees  in  the 
garden  of  the  Lord,  which  is  there  that  envies  not  the 
palm-tree — out  of  which  alone,  as  Plutarch  informs  us,  the 
Babylonians  derived  more  than  thi-ee  himdred  commodi- 
ties— or  the  cocoa-tree,  so  beneficial  to  man  that  a  vessel 
may  be  built,  and  rigged,  and  fi-eighted,  and  victualled 
from  that  alone — who  would  not  wish  to  be  such  ti-ees  of 
righteousness,  so  planted  that  'God  may  be  glorified.'" 

Well,  ministers  are,  no  doubt,  very  generally  and  very 
eminently  expected  to  be  such  ;  the  expectation  is  not  unnat- 
ural, it  is  very  natural ;  and  while  it  may  be  quite  impossible 
to  be  all  that  the  populace  demand,  it  is  very  possible  to  be 
much.  And  here  we  cannot  but  think  that  we  should  be 
very  thankful  that  we  are  ministers.  Does  not  the  office  and 
the  position  clear  the  ground  for  much  usefulness  ?  True, 
we  are  not  clergymen  in  the  mechanical  sense  of  the  word  ; 
that  office  is  really  imperial.  We  often  envy  the  clergjnnan 
his  power  :  in  most  mstances  he  uses  it,  I  believe,  very 
badly  ;  but,  how  mstantly  to  him  all  doors  fly  open,  from 
the  highest  circle,  which  is  not  to  be  despised,  to  the  low- 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.      233 

est,  which  is  to  be  prized  ;  all  classes  are  accessible,  and  he 
has  but  to  iuaiigmnitc  any  scheme  of  iLsefohiess,  and  he 
meets,  of  coui'sc,  with  responses.  With  as  it  is  wholly  dif- 
ferent ;  and,  in  the  more  naiTOwed  and  confined  districts  and 
smaller  chm'ches,  we  have  to  fight  our  way  through  suspi- 
cion within,  and  neglect  and  contempt  without ;  this  is 
ti-ue,  but  our  ministers  have  done  it,  and  are  doing  it. 

If  we  attempted  some  classification  of  the  ways  and 
means  of  ministerial  usefiihiess,  we  should  probably  find 
them  thi'ee-fold — Personal,  Pastoral,  and  Pubhc.  Hfing  must 
l^recede  all  really  efficient  doing.  It  seems,  no  doubt  most 
necessary  that  for  any  real  measure  of  usefulness,  we  keep 
our  own  mind  at  work,  the  only  way  by  which  can  be  kept 
a  fresh  and  natui'al  mind  ;  but  this  is  a  great  problem  how 
to  do  this  with  such  incessant  taxation  of  our  powers  ; 
reading  will  not  do  it  alone,  and  communion  with  our  fel- 
lows will  soon  run  us  dry,  and  leave  lis  an  unfilled  cistern. 
In  order  to  usefulness,  no  doubt  a  vei-y  great  necessity  is 
health  ;  sickly  people,  as  a  nUe,  are  not  good  companions 
for  sickly  people,  and  one  of  the  very  fii-st  conditions  of 
ministration  is  health.  We  should  aim  to  get  robust  soiils, 
we  shall  find  their  power  will  tell  in  any  circle.  We  can 
only  account  for  some  of  the  marvels  we  behold  in  the  way 
of  usefulness  thus.  We  should  be  other-^dse  i3eri:)lexed  at 
it.  Our  brother,  Persa-to  has  often  amazed  us  ;  we  l^eheve 
there  is  little  in  him  compared  "^ith  the  wealth  of  oiu*  brother 
Tristi^,  but  Persalto  is  a  healthy  brother,  and  there  is  such 
an  instinctive  apprehension  of  health  in  a  man  ;  2:)eople  are 
chai-med  ■s^-ith  it,  and  find  it  not  only  desh^ablc,  but  delightful. 
Of  com*se  we  are  thinking  of  natural  states  ;  sentiment  de- 
lights to  contemplate  sickhness,  just  as  aU  morbid  people 
fall  in  lo-ve  with  deformities.  ^Vell,  that  we  may  be  the 
ministers  of  health  ourselves,  it  seems  necessary  first  that 
we  become  healthy.  Perhaps,  as  a  general  principle,  it  is 
our  dii^i/  to  be  healtliy,  and  this  is  a  very  neccssaiy  kind  of 


234  Ilealtlifahiess  a  Duty. 

word  for  towns  like  Biighton,  Cheltenham,  and  fashionable 
watering-places  in  general.  We  beheve  one  of  the  ciu'ses 
of  the  Church  to  be  mere  sickly  sentimental  j)i'iests — men 
who  minister  to,  rather  than  minister  to  remove,  the  men- 
tal ailments  of  those  who  look  to  them.  Many  diseases 
arise  from  a  weight  of  cares  lying  on  the  minds  of  men,  or 
they  are  thereby  increased  ;  and  there  is  a  mysterious  pow- 
er we  know  of  in  conversation — in  agreeable,  healthy  con- 
versation— by  which  they  might  be  removed.  Disorders  of 
the  mind  first  bring  diseases  of  the  stomach,  and  so  the 
whole  mass  of  blood  gi^adually  becomes  infected,  and  as 
long  as  the  mental  cause  continues,  the  diseases  may,  indeed 
change  their  forms,  but  they  rarely  quit  their  patients.  It 
is  true  that  a  •'  cheerful  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine," 
and  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  tendeth  to  life." 

Among  the  ways  and  means  of  ministerial  usefulness  of 
coui'se,  we  purposely  pass  by  many  ;  perhaps,  we  may  say, 
one  of  the  chief  means  would  be — we  speak  fi'om  experi- 
ence of  the  opposite — the  doing  few  things,  not  many  things  ; 
we  must  not  pray  for  the  gift  of  a  hundred  arms,  but  for 
strength  for  two  ;  after  aU,  we  have  only  two  feet,  although 
a  healthy  body  and  a  wise  walking  will  make  two  feet  go  a 
great  way  ;  and  we  have  only  two  hands  and  ten  fingers. 
My  servant,  the  other  day,  tried  to  make  them  do  the  w^ork 
of  about  foiu-  pair  of  hands,  and  we  had  a  sad  tragedy 
among  plates  and  sauce :  loose  holding  and  management  is 
one  of  the  great  causes  of  failure  ;  a  tight  gi'ip  is  nioral 
power.  A  good  prayer  might  be,  "Lord,  I  know  Thou 
wilt  never  give  me  too  much  to  do  ;  save  me  from  jiicking 
up  too  many  tilings  from  a  mistaken  idea  of  duty  ;  helj^  me 
to  narrow  my  cu'cle,  that  I  may  fill  it." 

We  suppose  the  whole  problem  of  oiu'  ministerial  life 
and  labors  may  be  expressed  in  this,  how  to  got  to  peoi)le  ; 
the  whole  pulpit  work  comes  to  that.  Schools,  classes,  and 
lectures  come  to  that — how  to  get  to  peo])le.      And  it  is 


On  the  Mental  Tools  cind  Aj^ixiratus.     235 

quite  sad  to  think  how  many  thousands  of  people  we  see 
witJiout  ever  getting  to  them.  It  is  a  theory  of  ours,  not  of 
coiu-se,  without  some  hmitations,  that,  if  we  were  masters  of 
the  art  and  rhetoric  of  conversation,  we  should  be  masters 
in  the  puli)it.  We  are  persuaded  we  do  not  study  and  work 
the  mine  of  conversation  as  it  might  be  worked  ;  not  with 
a  view  to  brilhant  corniscations  of  table-talk  ;  not  with  a 
view  to  the  retail  of  anecdotes  ;  or,  even  with  a  view  to  the 
X:)ro vision  of  forced  meat  for  the  company.  Nothing  so  puts 
a  man  upon  himself  as  conversation,  in  the  pulpit  we  have 
it  all  our  own  way,  and  we  can  fine  peoj^le  if  the}-  inter- 
rupt us  ;  but  in  company,  if  anywhere  the  oppoi-tunity  is 
given  to  it,  if  we  can  avail  ourselves  of  it  to  get  near  to 
people.  IVIr.  Blunt  says  of  pastoral  conversation  and  its 
power — 

Til  at  through  the  medium  of  such  topics,  and  whilst  never  ex- 
alting them  to  an  undue  and  dangerous  importance,  he  will  fre- 
quently be  able  to  give  conversation  a  profitable  bias  without 
force  or  violence;  he  will  convey  to  the  mind  of  his  more  intel- 
ligent parishioners  purely  religious  knowledge,  without  seeming 
to  do  so  ;  without  obtruding  the  preacher  on  the  drawing-room, 
which  might  make  his  good  intentions  miscarry  ;  he  w  ill  leaven 
the  society  in  which  he  mixes  in  private  with  something  of  a  so- 
ber and  unworldly  spirit;  he  will  stop  out  imperceptibly  many 
topics  of  discussion  which,  how^ever  innocent  in  themselves, 
might  be  frivolous,  or  which  might  impart  somewliat  too  much  of 
a  secular  character  to  the  minister,  who  partook  of  them  with 
eagerness ;  he  will  add  authority  to  the  direct  exercise  of  his 
functions  as  parish  priest  by  such,  this  extra-official  carriage, 
which  will  lie  in  harmony  with  the  other ;  and  last,  but  not  least, 
he  will  thus  save  his  pastoral  speech  from  returning  to  him  void, 
neither  touchin.E^  the  heart  or  head  of  any  man  Avho  hears  it,  for 
want  of  some  timely  angel,  in  the  shape  of  some  such  topic  as  I 
have  supposed,  to  step  down  and  move  the  waters.* 

*  The  Duties  of  the  Parish  Priest,  &c.     By  Rev.  J.  J.  Blunt,  D.D. 


2^6  Value  of  Domestic  Conversations. 

It  is  a  most  strange  thing  that  we  can  talk  in  pulx:>its,  on 
platfoiTQS,  at  lecturers'  desks  ;  we  can  address  juries,  and 
prime  ministers,  and  even  majesty  itself,  and  fire  off  can- 
nonades on  the  hustings,  and  would  not  hesitate  even  in  the 
senate  itself,  if  we  had  the  chance  ;  but  we  cannot  talk  to 
each  other  by  the  fii-eside  and  at  the  table  ;  we  are  afi-aid 
of  our  childi'en  and  our  servants  ;  and,  when  we  go  out  to 
the  pai-ty,  the  soul  of  conversation  is  strangled  in  us  by  our 
cravat  and  M.  B.  waistcoats. 

As  painters  and  artists  find  their  hints  in  every  wander- 
ing— food  for  descriptive  sketches  or  studies  in  every  scene 
— so  it  is  with  the  preacher  ;  he  a  student  of  human  life 
and  character,  and  he  may  find  the  subjects  of  his  own  ser- 
mons in  every  visit,  in  every  walk,  in  every  home  ;  it  was 
so,  that  Dr.  Doddridge  used  to  say,  when  thoughts  and 
criticism  were  too  much  for  him,  he  went  off  and  walked 
through  the  streets  of  Northampton,  to  talk  to  some  of 
liis  old  women  or  old  members.  There-  are  volumes  which 
are  a  rich  repertory  of  this  kind  of  pastoral  experience — 
such  as  Spencer's  Pastoral  Sketches,  or  Dr.  31.  Gavin's  Scenes 
and  Characters  in  a  Scottish  Pastorate,  or  Dr.  Liefchild's  Se- 
lection of  Remarkahle  Facts — instances  selected  from  the  vis- 
itations and  results  of  his  ministry.  I  have  said  that  a  ser- 
mon may  be  obtained  from  an  intercotirse  with  the  veiy 
humblest  mind  ;  and  there  is  an  illustration  of  this  in  Dr. 
Liefchild's  interview  with  a  poor  lad  he  met  among  the 
mountains  of  Ireland — one  eleven  or  twelve  years  of  age — 
poorly  clad,  no  covering  for  his  head,  no  shoes  or  stockings 
— ^but  with  a  mild  and  cheerful  countenance,  and  with  a 
New  Testament  in  his  hand,  keeping  the  gate  of  entrance 
to  one  of  the  richest  and  more  magnificent  "siews.  "  Can 
you  read  ?  "  said  the  Doctor. 

"  To  be  sure  I  can." 

"And  do  you  understand  what  yon  read  ? " 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  x\iyparatus.     237 

"  A  little." 

"Let  us  hear  you;  "  and  I  turned  his  attention  to  the  tliird 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  John,  which  he  seemed  readily  to  find, 
and  said,  "Now  read."  lie  did  so  with  a  clear  unembarrassed 
voice — '  There  was  a  man  of  the  Pharisees  named  Nicodemus 
a  ruler  of  the  Jews;  the  same  came  to  Jesus  by  night  and  said 
unto  Ilim, — Kabbi.'  " 

"  What  docs  that  mean?  " 

"  It  means  Mader.  '  We  know  Thou  art  a  teacher  come  from 
God,  for  no  man  can  do  these  miracles  that  Thou  doest,  except 
God  be  with  him.'  " 

"  What  is  a  miracle  ?  " 

"It  is  a  great  wonder.  'Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him. 
Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee.' " 

"  What  docs  *  verily  '  signify  ? " 

"  It  means  '  indeed.'  '  Except  a  man  be  born  again.'  " 

"What  is  that?" 

"  It  means,"  he  promptly  replied,  "  a  great  change  !  '  Except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God.'  " 

"  And  what  is  that  Kingdom  ? " 

lie  paused,  and  with  an  expression  of  seriousness  and  devo- 
tion which  I  shall  never  forget,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  bo- 
som, he  said,  "It  is  something  licrel''''  And  then  raising  his 
eyes  he  added,  "  And  something  up  yonder^ 

And  who  that  has  visited  the  homes  of  the  people  does 
not  know  how  often  such  a  happy  kind  of  thought  has 
struck  a  rcfi'eshing  light  into  the  heart  of  the  pastor.* 

*  Scarcely  impertinent  to  the  matter  of  this  lecture,  and  tlie  re- 
marks of  this  text  will  it  be,  if  I  print  here  some  outlines  of  a  ser- 
mon I  preached  some  little  time  since  on  Table  Talk, 

"  A  GOOD  CONVEUSATION."      JaMES  iii.  13. 

A  rare  thing,  whether  we  interpret  the  words  of  that  general  and 
most  comprehensive  conversation,  our  neighborly  civility  and  con- 
duct among  men;  or,whothLT  wo  interpret  it  of  that  life  of  words 
wliifli  flows  on  in  intercourse  with  each  other.  I  intend  to  use  the 
words  for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  some  hints  upon  the  latter  and 


238 


A  Good  ConversationP 


I  am  afraid  oiu*  ideas  are  not  veiy  high.  That  -was  a 
high  character  Cranmer  gave  for  a  minister  he  designed  for 
preferment.  "  He  seeks  for  nothing,  he  longs  for  nothing, 
he  dreams  about  nothing  but  Jesus  Christ."  Our  aims  are 
low  ;  we  think  of  the  visit,  the  sermon,  the  meeting,  the 
reading  ;  we  do  not  think  of  that  which  should  consecrate 
and  crown  all,  and  so  we  fail  in  all,  and  we  are  not  rehgi- 
ous  enough  in  our  efforts.  Is  it  not  true  that  we  are 
afraid,  may  we  not  all  plead  verily  guilty  to  that?  We  are 
afraid  of  being  charged  with  obtmding  rehgion  ;  our  busi- 
ness that  to  which  we  have  been  set  apart,  is  to  insinuate 
rehgion  upon  people's  regard.  We  fear  we  do  not  root  and 
ground  people  in  the  truth,  our  Sabbath-schools,  and  our 

less  rec^arded  subject,  for,  indeed,  a  good  conversatiou  is  one  of  the 
rarest  luxuries,  certainly  now-a-days.  Our  fathers  were  our  superi- 
ors in  both  the  art  of  letter-writing  and  the  art  of  conversation. 
"  We  hold  our  speech  even  from  good,"  and  this  is  bad. 

We  have  surely,  for  many  reasons,  become  more  self-contained  and 
reserved  ;  we  do  not  freshen  ourselves  and  each  other  with  the  spray 
of  free  speech.  We  do  little  with  our  speech  compared  to  what  we 
ought  to  do — it  is  stilted,  narrow,  and  confined.  We  have  little  in- 
tercourse and  communion  with  each  other's  souls,  yet  I  suppose  all 
the  intercourse  of  this  kind  on  the  earth  is  to  be  found  in  the  church 
for  the  church  Avas  greatly  designed  to  aid  the  life  of  souls  with  this 
very  mental  communion.  In  the  world,  I  say  there  is  little  or  none 
of  it ;  some  talk  of  actresses  and  hounds,  a  little  talk  of  politicians 
and  horses  make  up  the  life  of  the  table.  It  should  not  be  so  with 
us.  We  may  remember  that  speech  is  a  divine  gift,  a  channel  for 
the  dissemination  of  knowledge  and  goodness  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to 
elicit  speech,  for  the  most  part  we  cannot  talk  at  all,  or  one  has  to 
talk  alone.  Yet,  what  a  true  characteristic  that  is  of  the  earnest 
heart  or  the  earnest  age,  "  They  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often 
one  to  another."  Our  praying  together  springs  from  this  sense  of 
divine  fellowship,  this  opening  of  the  heart,  the  inauguration  of  all 
the  great  religious  movements  has  began  thus  ;  thus  they  main- 
tained much  of  their  earnestness  and  life ;  thus  they  grew  ;  thus 
tlicy  kept  the  spirit  healthy  and  fresh ;  personal  religion  and  de- 
nominational zeal  are  greatly  dependent  on  "a  good  conversation." 


0)1  the  Mental  Tools  and  Ax>paratus.     239 

families.  "WTien  we  were  boys  we  leamt  through  several 
times  the  Assembly's  catechism,  with  the  proofs.  "We  have 
now  a  morbid  horror  of  catechisms  ;  they  are  never  intro- 
duced into  oiu"  Sabbath-schools.  Is  this  wise  ?  Li  conse- 
quence of  this,  are  not  our  instructions  there  inorganic,  un- 
related, incoherent  ?  In  fact,  do  we  not  feel  the  need  of  dis- 
cijDHne  in  our  instruction  altogether  ?  Would  not  the  ef- 
fect be  good  if  we  kept  in  oiu'  mind  a  course  of  sermons,  on 
some  such  system  as  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  keeping  the 
organism  out  of  sight  ?  should  we  not  find  that  we  chstri- 
buted  a  large  amount  of  rehgious  doctrine  ?  And,  if  our 
fathers  eiT  from  too  much  of  this,  do  we  not  err  fi-om  too 
Httle  ? 

The  liinrlicst  eftorts  of  the  pulpit  seem  to  me  to  be  best  described  by 
the  term,  "  a  good  conversatiou ; "  not  the  remote  and  foreign  talk 
of  stately  periods,  and  lofty  Chatham-like  harangues,  in  which  the 
spirit  stands  astonished  as  in  a  thunderstorm,  and  the  fright  is  the 
l)rincipal  part  of  the  impression,  but  a  quiet  stream  of  personal  talk 
in  which  speaker  and  hearer  realize  their  unity  and  nearness — how 
much  better  to  insinuate  oneself  as  by  the  fireside,  than  to  create  a 
marvel  in  the  soul.  "  A  good  conversation  has  four  characteristics  " 
which  make  it  good. 

I.  "  The  characters  who  engage  in  it."  We  should  scarcely  call 
that  a  good  conversation  in  which  worthless  men  engaged,  or  were 
introduced  to  each  other,  for  conversation  flows  from  the  life.  Aa 
we  have  read,  "  Out  of  the  abmidance  of  the  mouth  the  heart 
speaketh" — true,  a  full  heart  does  not  always  imply  a  fluent  tongue 
— far  from  that — but  the  character  of  the  tongue  is  in  the  heart. 
David  said,  "  My  heart  is  '  inditing,'  and  I  will  speak,  my  heart  is 
boiling  within  me  and  I  will  speak  ;  "  and,  indeed,  we  know  that 
evil  character  possesses  the  power  to  dry  up  the  fountains  of  holy 
conversation,  to  check  the  stream  of  prayer  at  its  bound  and  flow. 
"  Every  affection  has  its  proper  voice  and  dialect,"  and  "  we  cannot 
but  speak  the  things  which  we  have  both  heard  and  seen,"  so  the 
love  of  Christ  constraineth  us,  this  gives  the  character  when  the 
true  people  of  God  meet  together,  they  may  sit  in  silence  neither 
singing  nor  praying,  but  there  have  been  circumstances  when  even 
this  has  not  prevented  the  sense  of  the  good  conversation.     It  is  not 


240         ^^  Concerning  Tips  and  Downs P 

Thcat  is  a  healthy  essay  in  the  Recreations  of  a  Gountnj 
Parson,  "concerning  giving  up  and  coming  down."  The 
great  lesson  he  lays  down  for  the  wise  and  true  man  is  the 
learning  thi'ough  hfe  how  to  come  down  without  giving  up 
all.  Our  temptations  he  in  the  direction  of  giving  up  if 
unsuccessful,  if  we  don't  succeed  in  effecting  that  piece  of 
w^ork,  or  reaching  that  character.  We  do  not  sufficiently 
remember  that  there  is  a  way  to  reach  evciybody  and  to  do 
everything  ;  and  because  we  have  failed  it  is  by  no  means 
certain  that  we  must  fail.  He  was  a  wise  man  who  fixed 
bis  mhid  upon  the  most  stuj^id  of  his  auditors,  and  fixed  his 
arguments  and  illustrations,  his  persuasions,  and  his  inten- 
tions upon  him.     He  was  a  lecturer  upon  chemistry,  too  ; 

to  be  thought  that  there  was  much  conversation  when  the  Lord  and 
His  Apostles  met  together  in  the  bright  cloud  and  on  the  hills,  and 
Peter  exclaimed,  "  It  is  good  to  be  here. 

IT.  The  second  characteristic  of  a  good  conversation  is  "  the  to- 
pic," and  we  have  often  felt  that  this  will  charm  us  even  when  the 
words  do  not  move  freely  on  the  hinges  and  gates  of  ideas.  How 
some  sul)jects  charm !  how  fresh  they  are !  how  good !  how  ever  new 
and  young !  we  recur  to  them  again  and  again.  The  oldest  topics 
are  the  best ;  those  of  which  Moses  talked  with  the  shepherds  of 
Jethro — those  of  which  Abraham  talked  beneath  the  oak  of  Hebron 
— most  conversations  so  called  great,  do  not  seem  to  me  so.  How 
poor,  looked  at  thus,  the  talk  of  Sydney  Smith ;  among  talkers,  he 
seems  to  me  what  Ingoldsy  is  to  me  among  poets ;  it  is  a  kind  of 
nonsense  conversation,  scarcely  worthy  to  be  called  innocent  sheet- 
lightning  of  talk.  Perhaps  not  useless,  either.  How  different  to 
Luther's  talk  or  Coleridge's ! 

III.  Characteristic,  the  conduct  of  it,  when  grace  is  poured  into 
the  lips,  when  as  the  Apostle  says,  "  the  speech  is  with  grace  sea- 
soned with  salt."  This  is  even  still  more  difficult,  for  we  taint  our 
speech  with  asperity,  we  fly  from  the  main  and  central  thought  to 
our  own  little  griefs,  arrogancy,  we  become  egotists.  Matthew 
Henry  says,  "  Our  conversation  need  not  always  be  of  grace,  but  it 
can  always  be  with  grace." 

IV.  The  "  effect,"  what  has  been  its  effect  ?  How  has  it  found 
us,  how  left  us  V 


Oil  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     241 

find  lie  fonud  that  when  he  had  succeeded  with  his  stupid 
auditor  he  had  not  only  won  the  perceptions,  but  the  affec- 
tions and  the  interests  of  his  whole  audience. 

There  are  books  to  which  I  call  jour  attention,  written, 
of  course,  bj  clergj^men  for  clergymen,  but  they  may  be 
read  by  Nonconformist  ministers  with  profit  There  is 
method,  and  scholarship,  and  gi'asp  of  thought,  in  IVIr. 
Blunt's  book,  which  render  it  a  deei)ly  interesting  treatise. 
I  do  not  know  a  more  competent  work  uj^on  the  subject  to 
which  it  refers.  I  believe  the  excellent  author  has  gone  to 
that  kingdom  where  even  Churchmen  acquire  in  the  new  at- 
mosi)hcre  large  hearts,  or  we  should  have  taken  occasion  to 
remark  upon  the  singTdar  impudence  of  those  j^assages  in 
which  he  refers  to  that  odious  thing — Dissent  Ceiiainly, 
Congi-egationalists  have  never  had  to  feel  that  they  halt  be- 
hind the  ministers  of  the  Establishment  in  power ;  nay, 
but  in  a  few  rare  instances,  the  Estabhshment  has  to  feel 
that  its  power  in  the  pulpit  is  poverty  comj^ared  with  that 
of  ministers  of  the  Baptist  and  Independent  denomina- 
tions.    The  following  is  an  interesting  passage  : 

And  if  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that  fosters  Dis- 
sent, it  is  this  that,  practically,  men  see  no  great  difference  be- 
tween the  preacher  in  the  church  and  the  preacher  in  the  chapel. 
The  bulk  of  the  people  are  not  as  yet  in  a  condition  to  appreci- 
ate the  argument  of  the  Apostolical  Succession ;  to  understand 
the  commission  of  the  clergy ;  the  power  of  binding  and  loosing 
conveyed  to  them ;  the  influence  such  prerogative  may  have  upon 
the  soundness  or  unsoundness  of  the  sacraments  administered. 
They  observe  the  two  divines  dressed  in  the  same  way,  both  wear- 
ing black  coats ;  called  both  by  the  same  name  of  reverend,  and, 
sometimes,  with  the  same  or  similar  symbolical  letters  attached 
to  it:  both  apparently  acquainted,  and,  perhaps,  equally  so  with 
the  English  of  ^^lacknight,  Doddridge,  or  Matthesv  Henry;  both 
handling  their  sermons  much  after  the  same  manner,  su])press- 
ing  by  common  consent^  all  allusions  to  a  church  or  a  schism 
from  it;  and,  on  the  whole,  not  feeding  any  hearer  whatever  to 
11 


242    -^  Jeremiad  over  Poor  Ignorant  Dissent. 

despair,  either  from  the  attainments  he  would  have  to  acquire  or 
the  barriers  he  would  have  to  break  through  of  being  a  preacher 
himself,  if  other  resources  failed  him.  What  wonder  then  that 
the  church  and  the  chapel  should  be  confounded  by  vast  num- 
bers of  the  people;  or,  what  wonder  that  they  should  sec  a  dif- 
ference in  their  structure,  steeple  or  no  steeple,  decorations,  sur- 
plice or  no  surplice,  and  there  stop  ? 

But,  let  a  minister  have  the  knowledge  I  presume ;  let  him  be 
perceived  to  be  drawing  out  of  that  stock ;  and  it  will  at  once 
be  admitted  by  all  who  come  into  the  Assembly,  that  worthy  is 
that  man  to  sit  in  Moses'  chair,  and  "  they  will  fall  down  and 
worship  God,  and  report  that  God  is  in  it  of  a  truth."  It  will  be 
seen  by  the  simplest,  that  he  has  precious  funds  out  of  which  he 
disi^enses;  that  his  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  which  he  had 
spent  the  first  and  best  twenty  years  of  his  life  in  acquiring, 
have  not  been  lost  upon  him ;  but,  that  they  arc  the  safe  scaf- 
folding on  which  he  has  reared,  and  is  still  roaring,  his  know- 
ledge of  geology ;  and,  that  the  structure  is  sound,  substantial, 
and  massive;  such  as  the  Dissenting  minister  in  general,  with 
no  such  framework  at  all  to  aid  him,  cannot  attain  unto  or  ap- 
proach, be  his  zeal  and  talents  what  they  may.  Then  will  the 
peox3le  not  fail  to  discover,  and  to  remark  it,  that  the  grace  ac- 
companying the  imposition  of  hands  by  the  bishop,  which  they 
may  have  hitherto  disputed  (for  they  believed  it  not,  because 
they  could  not  see  it,  neither  know  it),  is  seconded  and  confirm- 
ed by  what  they  can  bear  witness  to — (though  not  in  itself  more 
real)— genuine  knowledge  in  the  man. 

"^  What  would  many  a  Dissenting  teacher  give  for  the  scholar- 
ly knowledge  of  languages,  which  numbers  of  our  young  clergy 
carry  with  them  to  their  curacies  from  this  place,  and  then,  alas  ! 
never  turn  to  the  slightest  account  all  their  days  " — unconscious 
apparently  of  the  treasury  they  possess  (though  one  would  think 
they  might  remember  how  long  and  how  hard  they  had  wrought 
for  it),  and,  like  the  yEthiop,  inconsiderately  casting  away  a 
pearl.  "  How  is  the  want  of  it  manifest  even  in  the  most  re- 
markable man  the  Dissenters  have  perhaps  had  amongst  them, 
in  later  times  at  least, — Robert  Ilall !  " 

A  precious  passage,  truly,  and  much  I\Ii'.  Blunt  could  have 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Ajyparatus.     243 

known  of  Robert  Hall  and  his  life,  his  studies,  and  his  at- 
tainments ;  of  whom,  in  his  university  it  was  said,  he  was 
the  Plato,  as  his  fellow-fitudent  Sir  James  Macintosh,  was 
the  Herodotus  of  his  college,  from  their  fondness  for,  and 
intimacy  with,  masters  of  old  Grecian  thought  and  nan^a- 
tive.  But  it  pleases  Churchmen  to  pat  each  other  thus 
generously  on  the  back,  and  it  i:>leases  us  to  laugh  at  it. 
For  ourselves,  we  shall  refuse  to  admit  the  vast  superiority 
of  these  men.  We  have  ourselves  conversed  with  too  many 
Greek  dimces  and  Latin  coxcombs  not  to  know  that  a  man 
may  acquire  a  knowledge,  a  paltry  knowledge  of  a  few 
classical  authors,  at  the  expense  of  aU  the  little  common 
sense  with  which  nature  endowed  him. 

Mr.  Blimt's  book  is  very  learned  in  the  know^lcdge  of  tlic 
good  things  provided  for  his  chui'ch  ;  but  there  is  another 
side  to  the  matter,  which  I  may  touch  without,  I  hope,  ex- 
posing myself  to  the  charge  of  mere  sectarianism. 

I  was  so  foi-timate  the  other  day  in  the  course  of  a  ram- 
ble into  Yorkshire,  as  to  alight  upon  one  of  the  most  re- 
mai'kable,  of  the  many  remarkable  sermons  it  has  been  my 
fatality  to  peimse.  It  appears  to  have  been  preached  not 
very  long  since,  in  the  parish  church  of  Howden,  by  its  then 
cui'ate,  who  is,  also,  the  master  of  its  Grammar  School,  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Secretan,  B.A.,  and  the  delectable  little  birjch- 
ure  canics  the  information  upon  its  title-page  that  its  treas- 
ures are  to  be  obtained  for  the  sum  of  six  pennies.  Those 
bishops  who  hold  the  pastoral  crook  over  the  sheep  and 
sliepherds  of  the  Church  of  England,  delegate  the  fimc- 
tion3  of  the  shepherd  to  strangety  qualified  characters.  I 
hav3  often  had  occasion  to  marvel  at  the  wondi'ous  teach- 
ers ordained  and  set  apart  to  the  task  of  instructmg,  but  I 
never  felt  a  disposition  to  mars'el  more  loudly  than  when  I 
read  the  i^erformance  of  Mr.  Secretan.  Wliat  adds  to  the 
interest  of  the  performance  is,  that  several  of  his  heai'ers, 
the  parishioners  had  expressed  dissatisfaction  at  the  strange. 


1 


244    ^^  Marvellous^  Transcendental  Sermon, 

obfuscatory  character  of  liis  elucidations  and  emendations 
of  Divine  truth  when,  in  simple  self-defence,  the  good  yoimg 
man  published  the  remarkable  performance  into  which  I 
have  struck  my  fangs.  In  the  sermon,  Mr.  Secretan  boasts 
very  loudly  of  his  Greek  and  Hebrew  ;  and  informs  his  heai'- 
ers,  that  the  meaning  of  Scripture  depends  upon  a  Hebrew  or 
Greek  dictionary.  How  far  he  is  acquainted  with  the  Ger- 
man lights  we  know  not,  but,  before  his  astonished  hearers, 
and  in  the  pages  of  this  astonishing  sermon,  he  most  cer- 
tainly out-Hegels  Hegel,  out-ScheUings  Schelling,  and  out- 
Strausses  Strausse  ;  in  fact,  the  sermon — which  seems  to 
be  on  no  subject  or  to^^ic,  or  text  either,  in  particular,  Gcn- 
esiSj  chapter  i.  being  the  somewhat  liberal  allowance  of 
Scripture  he  sets  before  himself  to  open — the  semion,  I 
say,  is  that  veritable  old  hag,  Atheism,  dressed  up  in  gown 
and  bands,  made  sacerdotal,  and  led  to  bob  about  her  old 
skeleton  in  all  the  gimcrackery  of  scholastic  bathos.  That 
I  do  not  express  myself  too  severely,  may  be  seen  by  the 
following : 

We  are  soon  struck  with  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  Moses 
speaks  of  the  Elohim — the  reverences.  He  speaks  of  those 
spiritualities  as  if  they  were  a  person.  He  supposes  them  to 
possess  bodily  organs ;  such  as  the  tongue  and  the  eye.  This 
appears  in  the  words  "  Elohim  said  " — Reverence  said.  "Elohim 
saw  that  it  was  good." 

I  am  not  pretending  to  explain  that  spirit  which,  under  the 
name  of  Elohim — reverences — is  stated  by  Moses  to  have  crea- 
ted the  heavens  and  the  earth.  Far  from  it.  But  I  only  sub- 
mit to  you  the  necessity  of  remembering  that  as  the  Creator  is 
a  spirit_  having  no  body,  or  parts,  He  has  no  tongve,  nor  cye^  and 
conseqiiently  cannot  speah  or  see. 

I  will  not  draw  your  attention  to  the  words — the  Spirit  of  the 
Elohim  moved  upon  the  waters.  This  I  would  attempt  to  ex- 
plain thus  : — That  agency,  of  which  Moses  had  so  grand  a  con- 
ception, that  he  gave  it  the  name  of  reverence,  mysteriously 
operated  in  the  fornuition  of  physical  matter.     In  other  words, 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Ai^paratiis.     245 

the  wind,  the  breath,  the  principle  of  life,  which  abstract  qual- 
ities such  as  reverence  must  have,  exerted  itself  in  the  work  of 
creation.  The  hreath  of  abstract  ideas — the  life  of  the  spirit  con- 
sists of  wisdom^  excellence^  2'^^'^^'^'  These  hrooded  over  nothing — 
and  lo  !  the  heavens  and  the  earth J'^ 

I  must,  however,  quote  one  other  paragraph  : — 

I  believe  that  the  terms  now  used  in  reference  to  the  Creator, 
whom  we  ought  to  reverence,  worshiping  the  spirit  of  under- 
standing, excellency,  power  ; — honoring,  that  is,  whatsoever  is 
spiritual,  intellectual,  pure,  moral,  noble — are  the  terms  convey- 
ing best  the  idea  which  Moses  had  of  the  Creator.  And,  if  we 
descend  to  later  times,  to  those  of  the  writers  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, I  think  we  get  another  idea  still  of  the  Hebrew  word 
Elohim.  We  get  the  idea  of  the  Greek  word  Theos,  which  is 
supposed  to  come  from  the  word  theo^  to  set  in  order,  to  arrange. 
The  three  languages  together — the  Hebrew,  the  Greek,  the  Sax- 
on— Elohim,  Theos,  God — Reverence,  Arranger,  Goodness  — im- 
press our  minds  with  the  high  worth  that  the  Creator  Spirit  has 
— of  the  indisputable  claim  which  he  has  upon  our  symjDathy 
and  devotion  ! 

Let  us  take  a  passage  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Corinthians,  in  which 
the  Greek  word  Theos,  Arranger,  occurs,  and  let  us  substitute 
the  Hebrew  idea  for  that  Greek  idea,  and  notice  how  the  jDas- 
sage  reads.  Let  us  s'elect  this  passage — "  Know  ye  not  that  ye 
are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwclleth  m 
you ;  if  any  man  defile  the  temple  of  God,  him  shall  God  des- 
troy:  for  the  temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  temple  ye  are.  Now, 
instead  of  the  Saxon  idea  of  Goodness  attributed  to  the  Spirit 
here  referred  to,  substitute  the  Hebrew  idea  of  Reverence — /.  <'., 
high  spiritual  qualities,  worthy  of  reverence ; — "  Know  ye  not 
that  ye  arc  the  temple  of  high  spiritual  qualities,  worthy  of  rev- 
erence; and  that  the  spirit  of  these  qualities  dwclleth  in  you: 
'  if  any  man  defile  the  temple  of  these  high  spiritual  qualities, 

"  I  of  course  plead  guilty  to  the  italicising  the  words  in  the  fore- 
going quotation.  I  am  desirous  that  the  rich  eloquence  of  so  beau- 
tiful a  paragraph  should  not  be  lost  upon  my  readers. 


246     -A  Preaclier  in  the  Town  of  Mudfog. 

liim  -will  these  spiritual  qualities  destroy.'"  To  me  this  seems 
a  deeply  sensible  reading  of  the  passage.  High  spiritual  qual- 
ities, worthy  of  reverence,  dwell  in  man.  If  you  defile  your  un- 
derstandings, your  excellence,  your  power,  they  will  defile  you. 
Privileges  abused  become  their  own  Nemesis — avenger.  Your 
spiritual  qualities  will  become  that  two-edged  sword — a  re- 
morseful conscience.  These  high  spiritual  qualities,  worthy  of 
reverence,  that  dwell  in  you  in  this  gospel  age,  are  the  perfume 
of  Christ.  They  are  a  sweet  savour  or  perfume,  though  you 
abuse  them.  They  are  a  sweet  perfume  in  those  that  are  being 
saved,  and  in  those  that  are  perishing.  In  you  that  are  being 
saved  is  made  manifest  the  savour  or  perfume  of  Christ's  knowl- 
edge. In  you  that  are  perishing  is  still  the  perfume  of  Christ's 
knowledge — still  there,  hoping,  and  knocking,  and  warning, 
and  assisting. 

What  more  useful,  and  therefore  I  must  think  Scriptural,  ad- 
vice can  I  give  than  that  we  take  care  of  "  those  high  spiritual 
qualities,  worthy  of  reverence,  which  dwell  in  us — created  at 
first  with  a  shadow  of  them— in  their  likeness — and  renewed 
into  them  now  by  the  sweet  savour  of  Clirist's  knowledge. 
Taking  this  care  of  them  because  they  are  the  representatives 
in  us  of  that  Great  Unknown  Creator  Spirit,  whose  earliest 
name  in  the  Scripture  is  Reverence." 

Such  are  specimens  of  this  astounding  utterance,  deliv- 
ered in  the  venerable  diurch  of  the  smaU  old  town  in  the 
east  riding  of  Yorkshire.  An  intelligent  little  town.  I 
have  had  some  knowledge  of,  and  afifection  for  it  for  nearly 
twenty  years  ;  but  whatever  may  be  the  mental  cahbre  of 
the  town  in  general,  you  may  conceive  the  utter  bewilder- 
ment of  the  uptui'ned  eyes  and  wdde  open  mouths  of  farm- 
ers and  laborers,  and  artizans,  at  these  amazing  discourses 
from  the  oracle  of  Mudfog.  For  myself,  I  may  tremble 
lest  ]VIi\  Secretan  should  issue  an  injunction  against  me  for 
printmg  the  whole  of  liis  sermon  ;  the  extracts  wdU  not 
seem  to  you  lengthy,  but  I  assiu*e  you  that  I  have  quoted 
the  greater  x^art  of  the  published  sermon.     IMr.  Secretan, 


On  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     247 

heretic  as  he  is  to  his  prayer-book  and  his  creed,  is  ortho- 
dox enough  as  to  time  ;  to  think  of  it,  that  a  man  cannot 
talk  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  scarce  a  syl- 
lable of  sense  in  the  whole  fifteen  minutes  ;  and  j\Ii'.  Sec- 
retan  is  an  ordained  clerg^'man  and  faitliful  watch-dog  of 
the  Church  of  England,  one  who  would  receive  Mr.  Blunt 's 
commendations  as  "  possessing  a  structure  of  knowledge 
substantial  and  massive,"  such  as  no  Dissenting  minister, 
"not  even  Robert  Hall,  can  attain  unto  or  aj^proach." 
Once  more  I  say — Wh^t  -will  these  bishops  ordain  next  ? 
I  should  like  to  know  whose  were  the  episcopal  hands 
whose  fingers  transferred  power  and  hght  to  that  much- 
thinking  and  penetrative  brain.  I  should  be  curious  to 
know  the  name  of  the  chaplain  who  examined  him  for  or- 
dination. Certainly  he  could  not  say,  "Thine  eyes  shall 
see  thy  teachers,"  here  is  "false  doctrine,  heresy,  and 
schism  ;"  and  it  will  be  well  to  recollect  that,  in  Paul's 
view,  there  was  no  schism  hke  that  of  "  not  holding  the 
head."  Yet  it  is  probable  that  IVIi-.  Secretan  is  not  much 
more  heretical  than  many  of  that  theological  school  he 
represents.  I  suppose  he  would  pass  muster  with  many  a 
clergyman  better  known,  and  occupying  a  far  higher  posi- 
tion in  the  establishment  as  a  Broad  Churchman.  Many 
of  these  gentlemen  seem  to  allow  for  their  theology  a  mar- 
gin of  uncommon  breadth.  Perhaps  most  of  them  would 
be  more  at  home  in  Mr.  Secretan's  region  of  "  Abstract 
ideas,"  than  among  explicit  texts  and  statements.  Like 
oiu'  singular  and  eccentric  Yorkshhe  curate,  their  minds 
seem  to  be  either  possessed  by,  or  in  the  possession  of  (it 
really  does  not  matter  which),  a  vast  number  of  incogniz- 
able, incxjDhcable,  and  inexpressible  ideas,  not  particularly 
edif}ing  to  themselves,  and  utterly  worthless,  for  all  piu*- 
poses  of  edification  to  their  hearers.  It  really  was  a  veiy 
wise  thing  m  the  Church  of  the  Establishment,  when  it 
was  first  settled  on  somethmg  like  a  sohd  basis,  to  provide 


248  Merciful  Provisions  for  Pulpit  Dunces, 

for  the  exigencies  of  religious  clciical  ignorance,  or  egre- 
gious clerical  heresy,  by  the  publication  of  the  Homilies, 
though  this  did  not  always  avail,  as  you  will  very  well  re- 
collect in  the  instance  of  the  erudite  clergyman  of  the  last 
century,  who  got  hold  of  a  volume  of  Comedies  instead  of 
Homilies,  and  read  one  off  for  the  practical  edification  of 
his  interested  audience.  I  sometimes  think,  amidst  the 
entanglements  of  clerical  wisdom  or  folly,  it  would  be  well 
if  the  Bishops  saw  a  little  more  vigilantly  into  the  read- 
ing of  these  Homilies,  or  parts  of  them,  to  congregations. 
It  would  appear  that  the  Privy  Council  never  had  much 
faith  in  the  average  gifts  of  the  clergy.  We  poor  Congre- 
gationalists  have  had  strange  people  amongst  oiu-  teachers 
— ^blacksmiths  and  shoemakers — so  at  any  rate  say  the 
members  of  the  Establishment — tinkers  and  sweeps  ;  but, 
whatever  may  have  been  the  depth  of  social  ignorance 
from  which  our  preachers  have  emerged,  it  has  never  been 
necessaiy  to  provide  them  with  a  volume  of  sermons,  be- 
cause they  could  not  make  a  deliverance  of  some  kind  for 
themselves  ;  not  that  we  are  disposed  to  harp  too  much 
upon  this  as  a  very  peculiai-  excellence.  I  have  even  some- 
times thought  it  might  be  w^ell  to  prepare,  compile,  and 
pubhsh  some  volumes  of  sermons,  which  might  be  recom- 
mended to  the  innumerable,  incompetent  heads  we  have 
amongst  us.  I  have  long  felt  how  great  a  calamity  it  is, 
while  our  shelves  are  crowded  with  admii-able  sermons 
suited  to  every  capacity,  with  all  the  pith  and  power  of 
puritanism,  or  the  music  and  majesty  of  the  gi'eat  masters 
of  mind  and  diction,  our  congi'egations  should  be  com- 
pelled to  hstcn  to  long  discoiu'ses  from  tliat  remarkable 
preacher.  Dr.  Windy  Doctrine,  or  his  equally  eminent 
brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Cloudy  Screech.  It  has  occun-ed 
to  us,  that  it  would  sometunes  be  a  good  thing  to  call  ui> 
on  a  brother,  and  put  into  his  hands  a  piece  of  old  Thomas 
Watson,  or  Thomas  Adams,  or  Brooks,  or  perhaps  old 


0]i  the  Ideated  Tools  and  Aiyparatus.     249 

John  Stoughix)n,  and  say  to  him — "  It  must  be  very  clear 
to  you,  you  have  nothing  very  distinct  to  say  to  your  peo- 
ple from  yoiu'self,  this  is  Monday — now  take  this,  read  it 
over  twice  every  day  ;  here  is  material  for  two  sermons  " 
(for  people  were  not  only  better  preachers,  but  better  Hs- 
teners  two  hundred  years  ago),  "  di'ill  this  thoroughly  into 
you,  and  then  go  you  up  next  Sunday  into  your  pulpit  and 
give  it  to  yoiu'  people — they  will  thank  you — the  probabil- 
ity is  they  will  understand  you,  or  the  stupidity  will  be  on 
their  part."  Such  reflections  have  passed  thi'ough  our 
minds  as  we  have  meditated  the  perfomiance  of  Mr.  Se- 
cret an. 

But  his  words  led  us  out  upon  another  track  of  tliinking 
— the  Howden  preacher  is  not  the  only  one,  nor  does  he 
belong  to  the  only  order  of  preachers  who  seem  to  con- 
ceive themselves  set  apart  to  form  the  "  cloud"  for  the  sec- 
ond advent.  Many  are  they  who  do  very  little  to  prepare 
the  way  of  the  Lord,  but  who.  whenever  they  begin  to 
si)eak,  instinctively  stir  upon  our  lips  the  exclamation, 
"  Behold^  He  cometh  with  clouds  !"  We  have  come,  at  last, 
to  that  time  when  there  has  been  created  the  chm'ch  of  in- 
volved meanmgs,  the  church  in  the  clouds,  yet  distinct 
enunciation  of  meaning  in  prayer,  and  in  preacliing  is  the 
only  means  oui'  people  have  of  being  reached  in  their  con- 
sciousness. We  Hve  in  a  perfect  whii'lpool  of  opinion  ;  on 
every  hand  we  are  met  by  cloudy  expressions  or  cloudy 
sentiments,  through  which  ordinaiy  minds  find  difficulty 
in  disentanghng  their  way.  Thus  we  have,  on  one  side, 
]VIi\  Secretan  and  his  whole  school — to  ichom,  ff  course,  Godj 
the  Saviour,  the  cliurch,  and  the  soul,  are  the  only  terms  fur 
abstract  ideas ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  mountain  of 
iron,  that  loadstone  pillar,  to  which  such  writers  as  Di\ 
Ne^^^nan  and  his  ehiu'ch  would  conduct  us,  to  be  held  there 
by  the  attraction  of  cohesion,  with  aU  and  every  kind  of 
substance,  servile  enough  to  prostrate  the  will  in  obedience 
11* 


250  How  the  Clerical  Mind  rer/arJs  Dissent. 

before  its  magnetic  attraction.  But  too  much  of  this — 
only  it  singularly  illusti'ates  Mr.  Blunt's  "  sound,  substan- 
tial, and  massive  structure  "  of  the  average  clerical   mind. 

We  might  feel  that  we  shall  increase  our  usefulness  if 
we  keep  out  of  the  way  of  clergymen  of  all  sorts.  "\Yo 
shall  rarely  meet  them  without  a  latent  misprision  of  insult 
being  very  present  with  them.  As  a  rule  we  may  say  of 
them  as  God  said  of  Israel,  "  Your  ways  are  not  my  ways, 
nor  your  thoughts  my  thoughts."  We  should  have  no  ob- 
jection to  continue  the  quotation,  but  we  forbear.  We 
may  be  charged  with  sectarianism,  but  oui'  communion 
wiU  grow  ;  in  fact,  when  we  had  less  to  do  with  the  clergy- 
man we  were  stronger  than  now.  We  ought  to  maintain 
the  essential  distinction  between  the  Establishment  and 
ourselves.  The  doctrine  of  apostohcal  succession  and  the 
doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration  are  the  badges  upon  a 
superstitious  Hvery  which  it  should  be  our  object  not  to 
flatter  and  fawn  upon,  but  to  mark  and  distinguish  as  the 
sign  and  token  of  unwaverings.  During  the  last  few  years 
we  have  had  poured  upon  us  a  torrent  of  insolence  of  a 
most  remarkable  character  from  the  Tracts  for  Priests  and 
Feojile  horn,  the  Rev.  IMi'.  Ryle,  from  Eev.  Mr.  Brooks,  in 
his  prophetic  interpretation,  and  from  Ai-chdeacon  Sand- 
ford  and  the  Bishop  of  Oxford. 

]Mi'.  Monro's  book*  is  very  interesting ;  it  seems  also  to 
us  to  contain  more  spiritual  freedom  than  the  volume  of 
Mr.  Blunt,  as  it  certainly  is  more  pleasantly  written.  It 
really  deals  with  the  homely  aspects  of  pastoral  visitation. 
It  has  not  the  dignified  reticence  of  the  Professor's  chair. 
It  is  too  discui'sive,  but  it  contains  admirable  hints  to 
preachers  upon  the  desu'ableness  of  combining,  with  hints 
for  the  method  of  accomplishing  the  combination  of  a 
knowledge  of  life  by  the  fii-eside  with  power  in  the  pulpii 

*  Pastoral  Life.  The  Clergyman  at  Home  and  in  the  P\ilpit.  By 
Rev,  E.  Monro. 


0)1  the  Mental  Tools  and  Apparatus.     25 1 

The  simple  dijBference  between  the  two  books  is,  that  Mr. 
Bhmt  wiitcs  hke  a  professor  bent  on  maintaining  imtouched 
the  dignity  of  the  Ecclesiastical  office,  while  ]\Ii\  Mom-o, 
ver}^  hkcly  quite  as  high  in  Chuix'h  notions,  writes  like  a 
man  only  desirous  to  reach  people  ;  he  writes  also  like  a 
man  who,  as  a  minister  of  some  small  village,  has  made 
himself  acquainted  with  the  inside  of  his  parishioners* 
homes.  Mr.  Blunt's  book  is  undoubtedly  more  systematic; 
has  more  breadth  of  acquaintance  with  the  subject,  while 
]Mi'.  Mom-o's  book  overflows  ^vdth  geniality  and  sympathy, 
some  readers  will  say  with  too  poetic  a  cast  of  expression. 
Mr.  Mom'o  has  not  sufficiently  guai'ded  and  informed  some 
of  his  expressions.  He  refers  at  great  lengih  to  the  in- 
fluence of  natural  scenery  in  forming  the  mind  of  the  pas- 
tor and  the  preacher.  We  quite  go  with  him  as  to  its 
importance  in  forming  a  strong  and  pei-fect  character.  Ho 
illustrates  his  position  thus  : — 

It  is  certainly  true  and  remarkable,  that  one  man  who  has  the 
power  of  originality  will  go  into  a  cottage,  and  with  saying 
"  very  little,"  not  "  reading  the  Bible  aloud,"  "  doing"  scarcely 
anything,  not  giving  a  penny,  will  come  out  having  done  a 
work  and  effected  a  result,  which  other  men  who  have  not  that 
power,  with  an  hour's  hard  work  in  the  same  cottage,  reading 
half  an  Epistle  through,  lending  tracts  in  large  print  fresh  from 
the  Christian  Knowledge  Society,  talking,  arguing,  reasoning, 
and  giving  half  a  crown  to  boot,  will  not  effect.  WTiat  is  this 
power  ? 

Fir.st,  there  will  be  "pictorial"  jDower  in  the  person  possessing 
the  genius  for  parish  work.  You  are  called  to  a  cottage.  You 
have  known  it  for  years.  A  boy  of  sixteen  is  dying  there.  The 
cottage  is  one  of  two.  It  stands  down  a  lane :  a  lane  whose 
hedges  offer  homes  for  the  birds  in  summer,  and  whose  haw- 
thorns the  woodbine  crowns  in  July.  The  ruts  are  deep,  and 
on  either  side  the  green  sward  covered  over  with  the  weeds  of 
June  glows  the  sunshine,  or  repose  the  deepest  shadows.  There 
by  a  pond  groups  of  children  play  tlie  year  round.     The  early 


2C2      Nature^  Man^  mid  the  Preaclier, 

light  is  greeted  by  their  merry  laugh :  the  hot  June  day  finds 
them  wading  up  the  stream  in  the  cool  water :  September  knows 
the  stretching  out  of  eager  hands  to  catch  the  berries  for  a 
Michaelmas  crown :  or  in  winter,  the  happy  groups  gather  on 
the  ice  to  slide  away  their  brief  holiday,— the  same  troop  all  the 
year  round.  And  that  dying  boy  was  one  of  the  liitle  com- 
pany: known  in  that  lane,  and  knoAvn  so  well  nowhere  else  in 
the  village  :  he  knew  it  from  infancy,  and  knew  no  other.  lie 
is  dying ;  and  he  loves  the  lane ;  and  as  he  is  propped  up  in 
bed  his  eye  rests  on  the  hedge  opposite,  and  the  sunset  behind 
it,  and  he  hears  the  shout  of  children  through  the  open  win- 
dow, and  he  longs  to  be  with  them.  But  he  smiles  patiently, 
and  is  glad  to  see  you;  you  come  to  pray  with  him,  and  speak 
of  heaven ;  he  knows  he  will  not  live,  but  he  has  been  long  get- 
ting ready.  The  funiiture  in  the  bedroom  is  all  part  of  his  his- 
tory, known  from  childhood,  no  more  and  no  less  than  what  it 
is  now;  the  stump  bedstead,  the  two  chairs,  the  table  between 
the  fireplace  and  the  window,  the  white-washed  wall,  and  the 
great  spot  of  damp  in  the  corner,  which  always  has  been  there, 
only  it  gets  a  little  larger  ;  the  oak  chest  by  the  side  of  the  bed, 
with  its  odd  quaint  carvings,  half  pomegranate,  half  seraphim. 
You  go  on  visiting  him  till  he  dies ;  and  he  dies,  and  you  kneel 
with  his  sorrowing  parent  by  the  bed,  and  speak  of  heaven,  and 
go  out  into  the  lane  where  he  played  ;  and  then  the  funeral  goes 
along  it,  and  the  coffin  is  carried  under  the  hedge,  and  the 
children,  old  jDlaymates,  gaze  in  wonder.  All  is  over,  and 
whenever  you  go  into  that  lane,  you  think  of  that  boy. 

Now  I  mean,  the  i30wer  to  realize  and  grasj)  all  this  by  i\\e 
"pictorial  power."  Of  course  I  have  described  a  common- 
place state  of  such  things ;  such  an  event  as  any  clergyman  in 
Hertfordshire,  Shropshire,  Buckinghamshire,  or  any  agricultu- 
ral country,  must  well  know  occurs  continually.  But  the  power 
to  "feel"  it  all,  to  see  it  in  that  way,  to  apjDreciate  it,  to  be  un- 
der its  influence,  that  shows  the  pictorial  mind  of  -which  I  am 
speaking,  and  which  I  conceive  to  be  a  part  of  the  "  parochial 
genius." 

Now,  admirable  as  all  this  is,  we  should  scarcely  have 
called  this  pictorial  i)Ower,  and  in  calling  it  so,  INIr.  Monro 


0)1  tlie  Alental  Tools  and  A^yparatus.      253 

puts  the  lesser  for  the  gi'eater  ;  he  might  as  well  say  a  poet 
is  a  man  who  used  words  ;  he  does  so  because  he  is  a  mas- 
ter of  theii*  meaning,  and  has  a  knowledge  of  things. 
Could  not  our  WTiter  have  used  the  old  words,  sympathy, 
humanity.  It  is  s}Tnpathy  which  gives  this  fellowship  with 
natiure,  and  scenery,  and  man,  which  is  the  source  and  se- 
cret of  all  pastoral  power.  It  is,  no  doubt,  true  j^ower, 
real  power  ;  but  i)robably  for  a  hundi-ed  men  able  to  preach, 
there  is  not  one  who  is  able  to  grasp  the  work  of  the  pas- 
tor ;  it  is  closer,  deeper  ;  it  cannot  admit  of  mere  general- 
ities, and  probably,  as  IMi*.  Moni'o  intimates,  every  man 
profoundly  affected  by  the  moods  and  changes  of  natui'e, 
will  be  also  as  profoundly  affected  by  the  moods  and  changes 
of  the  human  soul .  Death  and  bh'th,  sorrow  and  joy,  will 
be  very  touching  to  such  a  heart ;  the  one  s^Tupathy  will 
aid,  will  illustrate,  and  set  off  the  other.  I  have  myself 
been  very  conscious  of  this  on  many  occasions  very  im- 
pressive to  me.  I  remember  myself  being  called  to  a  mid- 
night death-bed.  Among  the  soHtar}'  and  wild  hiUs,  a 
member  of  my  chui'ch  was  in  her  last  moments.  She  died 
in  my  arms.  I  stepped  out  of  the  hoiise  ;  the  flickermg 
light  trembling  through  the  window,  the  thoug-ht  of  what 
was  behind  that  cui-tained  window,  then  the  tall  black  hiUs, 
the  valleys,  and  the  heavens,  and  the  unreplying  stars, 
gave  to  me  a  sense  of  xDower  and  aw^e  I  have  not  often  real- 
ized. Once  more,  in  one  of  the  wild  regions  of  Cumber- 
land, I  remember  having,  late  in  the  afternoon,  chmbed 
one  of  the  tallest  of  the  kills.  The  sun  was  setting,  I 
went  down  over  the  gloomy  sceneiy,  and  I  was  alone  with 
the  evening  and  the  night ;  a  sense  of  dreadful  desolation 
overmastered  me,  until,  looking  over  the  crag,  I  saw  be- 
neath me  the  pathway  which  had  been  trodden  that  day 
by  men  and  sheep,  to  be  trodden  also  to-morrow  ;  and  that 
pathway  brought  me  ,back  agaia  to  fi^eshness  and  hfe.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  man  gives  the  key  to  nature.     Nature 


254  ^^'-  ^'^"i^oWs  Last  Prayer. 

is  only  significant  by  man  ;  and  I  believe  this  is  what  Mr. 
Monro  really  means  by  the  pictorial  power  ;  it  is  that  sense 
of  s;yTnpathy  which  takes  in  and  relates  itself  to  all  parti- 
culars, and  invests  all  tenderly  with  the  consecrating  charm 
of  aU. 

But  I  must  close,  and  my  last  words  shall  be  words  I 
love  to  think  of,  the  last  prayer  of  the  great  and  good,  the 
loving  and  beloved.  Dr.  Arnold,  only  written  in  his  journal 
an  hour  or  two  before  his  death : — "  Above  all,  let  me  mind 
my  o^Ti  personal  work,  keep  myself  pure,  and  zealous,  and 
beheving ;  laboring  to  do  God's  iwric,  yet  not  anxious  that  it 
sJwuld  be  done  by  me  rather  than  by  others  if  God  disapprove 
my  doing  U," 


Pulpit    Monographs. 

IV. — The    Abbe    Lacorclaire    and 
Thomas  Binnev. 


MONG  the  great  masters  in  the  pulpit,  such  a 
man  as  Lacordaire  presents  veiy  special  claims 
to  observation,  and  even  to  admiration.  ^\Tien 
he  died,  the  Saturday  Review,  with  a  malicious- 
ness all  its  own,  tortured  some  of  the  words  of  the  orator 
to  pronounce  its  verdict  upon  him,  as  "  one  only  not 
monstrous,  because  ludicrous  ;"  it  rej^resented  him  as 
speaking  of  human  reason  as  the  "  daughter  of  nothing." 
"  A  power  which,  originating  in  the  demon,  is  incompati- 
ble with  faith,  which  is  of  God."  It  is  veiy  pleasant  and 
quite  illustrative  of  the  character  of  the  Saturday  lieview, 
that  these  things  were  said  by  Lacordaii'e,  not  of  human 
reason  at  all,  but  of  rationalism,  which  is  a  very  different 
thing.  There  are  points  in  the  character  and  work  of 
Lacordaire  which  Protestant  as  well  as  Catholic  may  ad- 
mire. When  twenty  thousand  people  gathered  round  his 
remains,  in  his  monastic  retreat  at  Soreze,  a  j^oor  woman 
pronounced  perhaps  the  finest  funeral  oration,  when  she 
said,  "We  had  a  king,  and  we  have  lost  him."  A  gi*eat, 
eloquent,  singularly  impulsive  and  fi'ee  nature,  he  filled  for 
a  considerable  time  a  large  space,  esx^ocially  in  the  thought 


2r6  Lacordaire, 

of   the  young  intelligent  mind  of   France,  or  of   Paris, 
which  is  all  that  France  seems  to  have  of  France.     He 
was  born  the  beginning  of  this  centur}^,  about  the  year 
1802.     He  was  the  son  of  a  village  doctor,  brought  up  by 
a  pious  mother.     He  lost  his  faith  at  college,  became  a 
deist  ;  at  the  same  time  the  passionate  love  for  hberty  and 
free  institutions,  especially  characteristic  of  the  mind  of 
France  at  that  time,  hung  round  his  soul  those  generous 
illusions,  and  penetrated  him  with  those  noble  convictions, 
which  perhaps  assisted  in  the  work  of  his  salvation,  and 
certainly  never  deserted  him.     In  morals  and  in  manners 
he  seems  to  have  been  always  pui^e,  and  at  about  the  age 
of  twenty  he  became  the  subject  of  conversion  ;  he  used 
to  say,  that  of  it  "  neither  man  nor  book  was  the  instm- 
ment  ;  a  sudden  and  secret  stroke  of  grace  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  nothingness  of  uTeligion  ;"  in  a  single  day  he 
became  a  beHever,  and  wished  to  become  a  priest,  and  he 
henceforth  walked  along  a  distinct  and  dignified  path  in 
harmony  mth  the  convictions  of  that  day.     Before  this  he 
had  passed  his  college  course,  and  qualified  himself  for  a 
barrister, — a  qualification  of  some  importance  to  him  be- 
fore long.     He  became  a  Seminaiist  of  St.  Sulpice,  was 
ordained  a  priest  in  1827 — Confessor  of  Nuns  in  1828. 
Soon  after  this  came  the  crisis  of  his  life  ;  he  became  the 
intimate  friend,  companion  and  co-laborateiu-  of  the  un- 
happy Abbe  de  la  Mennais,  a  spmt  who,  with  the  best  in- 
tentions, has  done  as  much  as  any  teacher  to  give  \dtality 
to  the  de^dls  of  infidelity  in  oui'  day.     At  this  time,  how- 
ever, his  princii^lcs  were  not  so  distinctly  marked  ;  it  was 
not  until  Lacordaire  had  entirely  separated  from  him,  that 
De  la  Mennais  pubhshed  The  Words  of  a  lldiexer.     At  this 
time  he  was,  perhaps,  the  most  celebrated  and  venerated 
of  the  French  clergy,  Lacordaire,  utterly  obscui'e  and  un- 
known, and  not  more  than  half  the  age  of  De  la  Mennais  ; 
together  they  started  the  Avenb\  with  the  purpose  of  teach- 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Laconlalre^Binney,    257 

ing  Catholics  to  look  up  to  liberal  institutions  and  ideas 
for  weaj)ons  by  vvhich  their  Church  might  become  fi'ee. 
The  eloquence  of  the  young  priest  soon  made  him  remark- 
able. He  also  \cry  soon  came  into  contact  with  the  func- 
tionaries of  the  illiberal  government  ;  he  was  brought 
several  times  before  the  Coiu't  of  Correctional  Police, 
sometimes  as  a  defendant,  sometimes  where  his  friends 
and  principles  were  involved  as  counsel. 

Coimt  de  INIontalembert  says,  he  well  remembers  the 
sm^Diise  of  the  President  of  the  Court  one  day,  on  find- 
ing at  the  bar,  di'essed  in  his  barrister's  gown,  the  priest 
named  in  the  indictment  ;  but  this  was  x^revented  at  last 
by  the  Council  of  Discij)line,  although  for  some  time  he 
made  these  occasional  advents,  in  which  he  bothered  coun- 
sel, and  electiified  his  audience.  One  day  a  Crown  lawyer 
said,  "  Pvoman  Catholic  priests  were  the  ministers  of  a 
foreign  power."  Lacordaire  started  to  his  feet  immedi- 
ately, exclaiming,  "  We  are  the  ministers  of  One  who  is  a 
foreigner  nowhere — of  God !''  At  that  time  no  persons 
were  so  unpopular  in  Paris  as  the  clergy  ;  but  the  Court 
burst  into  a  cheer,  and  one  voice  cried  out,  "  Your  name, 
young  priest,  yoiu'  name.  You  ai'e  a  fine  fellow  I"  By 
and  by  he  was  called  to  a  higher  court  for  denouncing 
government  somewhat  severely  in  its  nomination  of  three 
bishops.  In  1831  he,  with  M.  de  la  Mennais,  was  indicted 
by  government  before  the  Court  of  Assize.  His  coadjutor 
employed  able  and  effective  counsel,  but  Lacordahe  ax> 
peared  ag-ain  as  his  own  ;  his  speech  was  certainly  a  re- 
markable and  bold  one  ;  he  interwove  with  it  somewhat 
of  the  story  from  the  context,  scarcely  UTelcvant,  of  his 
own  conversion  ;  and  certainly  the  course  of  his  argument 
was  one  with  wliich  Nonconformists  in  this  country  may 
have  profound  sympathy,  it  was  a  protest  upon  the  danger 
of  the  appointment  of  officers  of  religion  by  the  civil  power  ; 
the  Attorney-General  had  laid  stress  upon  the  term  q/)/.res- 


258  A  Brave  Young  Priest. 

sors,  applied  by  Lacordaii-e  to  tlio  government.    Lacordake 
exclaimed  : 

Our  oppressors  !  The  expression  lias  liurt  you.  You  have 
called  me  to  account  for  it ;  you  have  looked  at  my  hands  to 
see  whether  they  were  bruised  by  manacles.  My  hands  are  free, 
Mr.  Attorney-General,  but  my  hands  are  not  myself.  IMyself,  is 
my  thought,  my  speech,  and  know  it,  this  self  is  fettered  in  my 
country.  You  do  not,  indeed,  bind  my  hands;  and  even  did 
you,  the  matter  would  be  but  a  trifling  one.  But  if  you  do  not 
tie  up  my  hands,  you  shackle  my  thought,  you  do  not  allow  me 
to  teach — me,  to  whom  it  has  been  said  "  BoceteP  The  seal 
of  your  laws  is  upon  my  lips,  when  will  it  be  broken  ?  I  have 
consequently  called  you  my  oppressors,  and  I  dread  bishops 
from  your  hand  ! 

It  was  a  ti'ial  in  tbe  cause  of  freedom.  At  midnight 
both  the  defendants  were  acquitted  ;  the  crowds  sur- 
rounded and  cheered  the  victors.  Count  de  Montalembert, 
a  very  young  man  then,  hngers  with  pathetic  affectionate- 
ness  upon  his  walk  home  that  night,  along  the  quays  and 
banks  of  the  Seine,  with  his  beloved  fi'iend,  congratulating 
him  and  hailing  him  as  the  futui'e  orator.  In  fact,  we 
linger  w^ith  a  great  deal  of  pleasui-e  oui'selves,  upon  the 
work  the  young  priest  was  doing.  The  Government  In- 
spector had  ordered  that  some  choristers  should  be  sent 
away,  and  not  receive  gTatuitous  instruction  ;  it  seemed 
to  Lacordau'e,  and  his  friends,  Montalembert  and  De  la 
Mennais,  that  this  was  an  occasion  for  putting  the  rights 
of  the  citizens  to  a  test  ;  they  constituted  themselves  an 
agency  for  the  defence  of  rehgious  hberty.  Lacordaire 
annomiced  in  the  A\:envi\  that  "seemg  hberty  was  not 
given,  it  must  be  taken :"  so  the  three  of  them  opened  a 
free  school  in  1831,  having  given  notice  to  the  Prefect  of 
Police  ;  each  of  them  having  gathered  together,  taught  a 
class  of  about  twenty  children.  In  a  few  days  came  the 
Commissaiy,  and  ordered  them  all  to  quit.    He  first  began 


Pulpit  Ilonogr a plis :  Lacovdaire^B'uiney,    259 

mth  the  children,  saying  :  "In  the  name  of  the  law  I 
summon  j^ou  to  leave."  The  Abbe  Lacordaire  said  :  "  In 
the  name  of  your  parents,  whose  authority  I  hold,  I  order 
you  to  stay."  The  httle  rebels  ciied  out,  "  We  will  stay." 
Easier  said  than  done.  The  joolice  forced  both  childi'en 
and  masters  to  leave.  Lacordaire,  however,  who  seems 
to  have  been  the  leader  of  the  fight,  still  objected  ;  he  had 
rented  the  room,  therefore,  he  said,  it  ^v^as  his  dwelling  ; 
he  had  provided  himself  with  a  bed  there,  it  was  his  lodg- 
ing ;  he  sat  himself  upon  it.  "You  go,"  said  he,  "I'll 
remain  the  night  here  with  the  law  and  with  my  rights." 
But  the  touch  of  the  Police  overmastered  this  reasoning, 
and  he  was  compelled  to  leave.  For  this  misdemeanor 
all  were  prosecuted.  ^Vhile  the  prosecution  was  pending 
the  father  of  Count  de  Montalembert  died  ;  this  brought 
the  prosecution  of  the  young  Count  before  the  House  of 
Peers,  and  as  it  was  in  its  action  against  the  Priest  and 
Count  indivisible,  the  Abbe  Lacordaire  appeared  before 
the  Chamber  of  Peers  to  defend  himself  and  fi'iend  ;  they 
were  found  guilty,  but  only  fined  one  hundi-ed  francs.  "  A 
small  price,"  says  the  Count,  "  to  pay  for  the  honor  and 
advantage  of  having  forced  upon  the  attention  of  the  pub- 
he  a  question  involving  the  life  or  death  of  fi'eedom." 
This  was  a  remarkable  year  to  the  young  men,  the  year 
of  their  close  friendship  and  brave  united  action.  As  it 
died,  the  yoimg  Abbe  wrote  to  his  biographer,  "  However 
cruel  Time  be,  he  will  never  blight  the  charms  of  the  year 
which  has  just  closed,  that  year  will  be  eternally  to  my 
heart  like  a  virgin  just  expired."  Meantime,  with  all  this 
glory,  the  Avenlr  w^as  not  a  paying  affair.  Material  re- 
sources were  few,  and  they  became  exhausted  by  law-suits 
and  pubhcations  ;  and  it  would  seem  Chiu'ch  and  State 
looked  ahke  somewhat  scowlingly  upon  it.  The  sentiments 
of  De  la  Memiais  vrere  developing  in  a  direction  where 
Lacordaire  was  not  lilvcly  to  follow.     The  fii'st  had  the 


260         Believe  ivlicve  Yo\i  Cannot  See. 

shapeless  and  indefinite  longings  of  free  impulses,  but 
Lacordaii'e  was  a  Christian,  a  priest,  and  a  child  of  the 
Church.  Their  effoiis  had  not  been  smiled  npon  by  Rome, 
so  together  they  sought  Rome,  that  they  might  receive  the 
guidmg  word  of  the  Holy  Father.  Holy  Father  received 
them  respectfully,  even  affectionately,  but  as  to  the  matter 
in  hand,  quite  silently.  This  silence  Lacordaire  mter- 
preted  as  the  condemnation,  if  not  of  then-  piiaciples,  then, 
of  their  tendencies,  by  the  voice  of  the  Church.  Like  a 
time  priest  of  Rome,  he  resigned  hhnself  to  the  thwarting 
and  the  disax^joointment.  "  Obedience  is  i^ainful,"  he  wrote 
to  his  fi'iend  Montalembert,  "  but  experience  has  taught 
me  that,  sooner  or  later,  it  is  rewarded,  and  that  God 
alone  knows  what  is  good  for  us  ;  the  light  breaks  in  upon 
him  who  submits,  as  upon  one  who  opens  his  eyes."  The  two 
Abbes  parted  company  then  ;  the  coiu'se  of  De  la  Mennais 
certainly  was  disastrous.  I  believe  his  honest  endeavor 
was  to  see.  Lacordaire  said,  "  The  Church  does  not  say 
to  you  See ;  this  power  does  not  belong  to  her  ;  she  says 
to  you.  Believe"  and  Lacordaire  was  right.  It  may  seem 
strange  that  I  find  so  much  that  touches  my  sj^mpathy  in 
the  course  taken  by  a  Popish  priest.  In  fact,  whilst  our 
reasons  might  differ,  it  strikes  us  that  all  intelligent  minds 
reach  a  point  in  their  history,  when  the}^  have  to  summon 
themselves  to  a  detemiination  like  that  which  claimed  and 
compelled  Lacordaire  to  plunge  on  thoughtlessly  through 
what  seems  to  be  the  light,  as  though  light  alone  gave  the 
power  of  seeing,  and  then  to  hand  over  the  sj^irit  to  what 
the  Abbe  well-styled  the  most  fearful  bondage  of  all, 
"the  bondage  of  the  mind" — or  to  take  shelter,  as  he 
took  shelter,  in  the  conviction,  that  as  there  exists  in 
the  world  a  necessity  for  a  power  to  protect  the  wcpuk 
muid  against  the  strong  mind,  God  has  appointed  it, 
not  in  seeking  for  peace  and  hberty  along  the  highways 
of  gi-ief  and  slavery,  but  in  jorayer,  and  in  the  offices  of 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Lacordaive^  Blnney.    261 

the  Chiu'ch.  Of  coui'se,  my  hearers  will  not  understand 
me  as  implying  only  the  offices  of  the  Romish  Church  ; 
any  church  seeking  to  Christ  as  the  shelter  of  weak  souls. 
Lacordaire  was  a  Papist — he  found  his  rest  therefore  in 
the  voice  of  the  Eomish  ritual — he  bowed  himself  to  his 
religious  authorities — he  felt  there  was  something  to  obey, 
and  he  obeyed.  It  might  be  weU  for  all  of  us  if  we  had 
some  centre  to  which  we  felt  we  owed  the  debt  of  rehgious 
obedience.  Although,  however,  he  quitted  the  company 
of  the  Abbe  De  la  IMennais,  so  much  his  senior,  to  whom 
he  had  yet  professed  his  most  earnest  and  tender  advice, 
he  did  not  so  renounce  Montalembert,  reminding  us  of  the 
intensity  with  which,  in  similar  ch'cumstances  and  for  a 
like  end,  Ignatius  Loyola  followed  Xavier. 

Montalembert,  with  a  reserved  and  subdued  affection,  re- 
fers to  the  way  in  which  he  was  followed  by  his  friend,  seek- 
ing him  out  with  logic,  with  keen  and  touching  eloquence, 
■with  a  mixture  of  severity  and  humble  affection,  and  v/ith 
irresistible  frankness  and  sweetness.  At  a  much  later  pe- 
riod of  his  hfe,  Lacordaire  defined  a  priest  to  be  "  firm  as  a 
diamond,  softer  than  a  mother."  "Such,"  says  Montalem- 
bert, "he  himself  seems  to  me.  I  was  the  prisoner  of  error 
and  pride,  and  he  freed  me  ;  and  I  was  able  to  cast  into  the 
depths  of  that  soul  a  look,  at  first  troubled  and  irritated,  but, 
smce  then  and  now,  bathed  in  tears  of  undying  gratitude." 

Lacordaire  was  not  only  acquainted  with  the  phenomena 
of  knowledge,  he  was  still  more  profoundly  acquainted  yASh. 
the  phenomena  of  faith  ;  thus  he  estabhshed  the  eternal  re- 
lation between  himself  and  his  revering  discii^le. 

Hitherto,  as  comjDared  with  the  life  he  subsequently  led, 
and  the  vast  prommency  of  his  fame,  Lacordaire  had 
wrought  in  obscurity.  Returning  from  Rome  to  Paris,  ho 
still  continued  in  obsciuity ;  and,  when  the  cholera  broke 
out,  with  his  cool,  cahn  corn-age,  he  devoted  Innself  in  a  tem- 
porary hospital  to  the  sick  and  the  dying.     We  know  how 


262  His  First  Sermon  a  Failure. 

manifest  at  that  time,  was  the  ill-feeling  in  Paiis  towards 
the  clergy :  the  Administration  dechued  the  assistance  of 
the  Ai'chbishop  of  Paris.  "While  priests  could  not  show 
themselves  in  their  cassocks,  Lacordaire  was,  however,  tol- 
erated. He  wrote  fi'om  the  hospital,  "  There  are  here  neither 
Sisters  of  Charity,  nor  Chai)lain,  nor  ordinary  Clergy.  My 
presence,  and  that  of  two  other  priests  was  tolerated.  The 
smallest  portion  of  the  work  falls  to  us  ;  each  day  I  glean 
but  a  scanty  crop  for  eternity."  So  he  labored.  He  -svish- 
ed  to  bury  himself  in  the  depths  of  the  country  to  live  for 
a  small  flock.  He  wrote  to  Montalembert,  he  hoped  to 
"  bless  his  children  before  he  died  ; "  but  the  Ai'chbishop  of 
Paris  kept  him  in  his  diocese  ;  in  apartments  in  the  Con- 
vent of  the  Visitation  he  Uved.  His  mother  came  to  hve 
there  with  him,  and  died  in  his  arms  ;  and  then  he  seems 
to  have  derived  much  sympathy  from  the  celebrated  Mad- 
ame Swetchine.  This  lady  filled  to  him  the  place  of  his 
mother,  out  of  the  treasures  of  her  lofty  and  upright  soul. 
She  died  a  short  time  before  he  did.  His  days  in  Paris 
seem  to  have  been  very  much  of  a  solitude  :  the  Convent 
was  a  retreat  to  him.  "There,"  says  Montalembert,  "I saw 
him  growing  in  calmness  and  recollection,  in  prayer,  study, 
and  charity."  Lacordau-e  testifies,  "Solitude  begins  to 
reign  around  me  ;  it  is  my  element,  my  life  ;  nothing  is 
achieved  without  soHtude." 

Hitherto  he  had  never  preached  ;  he  preached  first  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Eoch,  in  the  spring  of  1833.  Montalembert 
heard  hun  first,  and  testifies  that  he  failed  completely. 
"  We  all  said  on  leaving,  *  He  is  a  talented  man,  but  will 
never  make  a  preacher.' "  The  preacher  himself  said,  "I 
shall  continue  to  live  solitary ;  I  have  enough  of  nothing 
that  goes  to  make  up  a  j^reacher."*   A  few  months  after,  he 

*  The  reader  will  remember  when  Robert  Hall  delivered  his  first 
address,  he  suddenly  paused,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  es- 
claiminpf,  "  Oh  !  I've  lost  all  my  ideas,"  and  the  srcond  attcmi)t  was 
accompanied  by  a  like  failure. 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Lacordaire^  Binney.    263 

was  incomparably  the  greatest  preacher  in  Eiu'ope — the 
most  magnificent  eagle  of  eloquence  since  the  time  of  Bos- 
suet  ;  for  it  so  hapi^ened,  that  as  his  thoughtful  sympa- 
thies, and  earnestness,  and  holiness  were  known  to  a  few 
youths  of  the  most  unpretending  of  the  Paris  colleges,  the 
College  Stanislaus,  he  was  asked  to  deHver  himself  in  what 
is  styled  Conferences  to  them  ;  he  promised  to  do  so.  At 
the  second  conference  the  chapel  was  unable  to  hold  the 
crowd.  The  third,  a  temporary  gallery  was  erected.  His 
enemies  became  busy  :  he  had  emerged  again  from  obscur- 
ity ;  he  was  denounced  at  Kome ;  denounced  to  the  Gov- 
ernment ;  and  denounced  to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris.  He 
was  charged  with  heresy  and  impiety.  Some  of  the  priests, 
who  in  fact  never  did  like  him  to  the  close  of  his  career, 
charged  hun  with  Atheism  ;  it  was  said,  that  in.  some  of 
his  conferences,  he  had  not  pronounced  the  name  of  Jesus 
Chi'ist  one  single  time  ;  he  rephed  to  this  concisely,  "  I 
scorn  the  annoyance  given  to  me  ;  I  fulfil  my  duty  as  a 
man  and  a  priest ;  I  hve  alone  in  continual  study,  calm, 
tiTistful  in  God  and  the  future."  Others  did  not  hesitate 
to  scoff.  To  them  upon  due  occasion,  he  said,  "  Gentle- 
men, God  has  made  j^ou  witty,  very  witty,  indeed,  to  show 
how  Httle  He  cares  for  the  wit  of  man."  The  i\j:chbishop 
of  Paris  seems  to  have  behaved  with  remarkable  courage. 
He  was  memorialized  by  a  deputation  of  law-students  to 
find  a  larger  church  for  the  preacher,  and  he  called  upon 
him  to  mount  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame.  Montalembert 
scarcely  rises  to  exaggeration  when  he  says,  that  "  by  his 
conferences  in  Notre  Dame,  he  immortalized  that  pulpit ; " 
and,  ceriainly,  I  suppose  that  the  most  vivid  recollections 
printed  upon  any  minds  by  the  mention  of  Notre  Dame, 
are  associated  with  the  thronging  crowds  who  listened  in 
1835  and  183G  to  those  conferences,  which  I  will  sui:>pose 
to  be  in  all  my  hearers'  hands  ;  to  me  they  have  been  long 
thoroughly  familiar  ;  and  making  allowance  for  their  vcs- 


264  '^^^^  Dominican  Monlc. 

ture  of  Romanism,  they  may  be  mentioned  as  the  most  ad- 
mirable grappling  line  thrown  from  the  modern  pulpit  over 
the  consciousness  of  the  intelligent  and  cultivated  mind  of 
the  present  generation. 

He  was  thirty-tlu'ee  years  of  age  ;  in  the  midst  of  his 
fame,  he  fled  fi'om  Paris  to  Rome,  and  startled  all  his 
friends  ere  long  by  plunging  into  one  of  the  severest  and 
most  ascetic  orders  of  the  chui'ch  ;  he  assumed  the  white 
robe  of  St.  Dominic  ;  he  became  one  of  the  fi'iar-preachers, 
and  devoted  himself  to  an  effort  for  the  resurrection  of  re- 
ligious orders  ;  he  plunged  down,  also,  into  the  deep  vol- 
umes of  Si  Thomas.  "  Would  that  I  had  long  ago  drunk 
of  those  deep  waters,"  says  the  monk.  Five  years  passed 
away  before  he  appeared  again  in  Paris  ;  he  appeared  then 
at  Notre  Dame,  with  shaven  head  and  white  habit,  in  the 
midst  of  six  thousand  young  men.  He,  also,  always  re- 
garded himself  as  esi^ecially  the  preacher  to  young  men. 
And  from  j^ear  to  year  he  apj)eared,  gathering  immense  au- 
diences ;  while  in  the  provhices,  founding  his  religious  or- 
ders, and  seeking  to  obtain  freedom  from  the  impositions 
of  the  Government,  especially  for  the  white  habit  of  the 
Dominican.  I  confess,  I  have  Httle  sjonpathy  with  the 
brand  of  St.  Dominic  myself,  perfectly  aware  of  the  won- 
derful beings  that  order  has  produced,  nor  less  aware  of  its 
cruelty  and  satui-naha  of  abominable  crime.  With  this, 
however,  here  we  have  nothing  to  do  ;  the  order  has  pro- 
duced men  among  the  most  affectionately  hoty  of  our  race  ; 
and  of  these  Pere  Lacordaire  is  one.  In  184G,  on  announc- 
ing his  attention  of  speaking  on  the  familiar  Yiio.  of  Christ, 
be  exclaimed,  in  what  may,  perha^DS,  be  well  called  a  cry  of 
supernatural  tenderness — 

Lord  Jesus ;  during  the  ton  years  that  I  have  been  preaching 
to  this  audience,  Thou  wert  ever  at  the  bottom  of  my  discours- 
es ;  but,  to-day,  at  hist,  I  come  more  directly  to  Thyself,  to  that 
Divine  face  which  is  daily  the  object  of  my  coutcmplatiou,  to 


Pulpit  Mono(jraphs :  Lacovdairc,  JBlnney.    26  c 

those  sacrcc;!  feet  which  I  have  so  often  kissed  ;  to  those  loving 
hands  which  have  so  often  blessed  me;  to  that  life,  whose  fra- 
grance I  have  inhaled  from  ray  cradle,  which  my  boyhood  de- 
nied, which  my  youth  again  learned  to  love,  and  which  my  man- 
hood adores  and  ijreachcs  to  every  creature.  O  Father  !  O  Mas- 
ter !  O  Lover  !  O  Jesus !  help  mc  more  than  ever,  since  being 
nearer  to  Thee,  my  audience  must  feel,  and  I  must  draw  from  my 
heart  accents  indicative  of  thy  admirable  proximity.* 

The  words,  the  method  of  Lacordaii'e,  cannot  be  un- 
known to  my  hearers.  The  Conferences  of  Notre  Dame 
are  to  be  met  with  everywhere.  They  are  especially  bold 
and  striking — in  their  generalizations  they  are  perhaps  too 
dazzling  ;  but  they  were  delivered  to  vast  audiences  ;  they 
were  not  the  result  of  great  art  and  preparation,  but 
thought  out  ;  they  were  taken  down  in  short-hand,  and  cor- 
rected the  day  after  for  the  press ;  this  will  save  many  of 
the  words  from  the  appearance  of  inflation  ;  we  could  not 
have  endured  had  the  words  received  the  careful  revision 
and  chiselling  of  the  study.  Let  the  following  illustrations 
suffice  : 

THE   HUMAN  MTSTEllY. 

In  fine,  if  I  desire  to  know  what  will  be  the  end  of  this  terri- 
ble struggle,  if  I  think  of  the  destinies  of  man  beaten  about  by 
an  incomprehensible  tempest,  it  is  then  that  the  ignorance  and 
oonfusion  of  the  ideas  of  the  world  are  clearly  shown.  A  man 
is  born ;  will  he  be  happy  or  miserable,  good  or  bad  ?  The 
world  does  not  know.  An  empire  is  founded  ;  how  long  will  it 
endure  ?  "What  will  be  the  various  chances  of  its  duration  ?  The 
world  does  not  know.  A  war  commences  ;  who  will  be  victori- 
ous, who  will  be  vanquished  ?  The  world  does  not  know.  A 
swallow  perches  upon  a  roof:  where  is  it  going  ?  The  world 
does  not  know.  A  leaf  falls ;  where  does  it  go  ?  The  world 
does  not  know.  The  world  does  not  know  the  destiny  of  a  sin- 
gle hair,  how  should  it  know  the  destiny  of  mankind  ? 

Oh  !    ourselves ;    let  us  each  look  into  ourselves,  recall  to  our 

*  First  Conference  of  1846. 

12 


266  The  Nations  and  the  Bible, 

thoughts  the  amazing  mystery  of  our  life.  How  do  we  stand  with 
regard  to  truth  and  error?  IIow  many  things  have  we  believed 
true  which  we  now  believe  to  be  false,  how  many  false  which  wo 
now  believe  true  !  And  who  will  tell  us  what  our  intelligence 
will  be  to-morrow  ?  And  whence  comes  it  that  we  might  be  on  the 
right  hand  or  on  the  left  ?  And  our  existence,  what  is  its  his- 
tory since  Adam  ?  What  were  our  fathers  ?  Where  and  how 
shall  we  die  ?  perhaps  this  evening  or  to-morrow — we  know  not. 
And  our  heart !  Ah  !  here  above  all  the  consideration  of  our- 
selves becomes  grievous,  and  the  abyss  of  good  and  evil  appears 
to  us  in  all  its  length  and  breadth  and  depth.  What  a  wonder- 
ful mixture  of  good  and  bad  actions,  of  odious  and  sublime 
thoughts,  of  devotedness  and  of  selfishness  !  Are  we  angels  or 
demons?  And  wiiat  a  marvellous  chaos  is  also  the  society  in 
which  w^e  are  born !  The  sound  of  tempests  surrounded  our 
cradle ;  we  have  passed  through  a  thousand  contradictory  opin- 
ions. Some  say  that  everything  is  perishing,  others  that  all  is 
rising  into  life ;  some  that  we  are  entering  upon  a  new  feature, 
others  that  we  are  only  repeating  sad  and  ancient  tragedies.  And 
in  fine,  to  crown  all,  have  we  chosen  our  part  with  reference  to 
our  eternal  destiny?  Young  men  of  this  age,  do  you  know 
where  you  will  be  in  that  of  the  immutable  and  the  infinite  ? 
Look  at  these  walls  :  what  profound  faith  built  them  ?  And  you 
are  full  of  doubt !  And  yet  I  am  speaking  to  reasonable  beings, 
to  the  kings  of  creation,  the  masterpiece  of  nature,  and  nothing 
is  comparable  to  their  grandeur  Imt  their  ignorance  of  them- 
selves, but  the  impenetrable  mystery  in  which  they  are  plunged. 
They  know  everything  excepting  what  they  are. 

Well !  I  bring  you  good  tidings ;  this  knowledge  which  the 
world  does  not  possess  exists.  It  exists,  for  how  could  the  Au- 
thor of  things  leave  llis  creatures  in  such  unnatural  ignorance 
and  uncertainty  ?  It  exists  in  the  world,  although  it  comes  not 
from  the  world. 

THE   NATIONS   AND   THE   BIBLE. 

Who  will  venture  to  compare  any  community  constituted  by 
a  sacred  book  with  the  Christian  community  ?  Look  first  at 
China;  what  has  she  done?  By  what  deeds  has  she  revealed 
herself  to  the  world  ?     Where  arc  the  traces  of  her  arms ;  where 


Pxdpit  Monograiilis :  Lacordaire^  Binney.    267 

the  furrows  of  her  ships?  Where  her  doctrinal  propaganda? 
Have  you  ever  met  the  Chinese  on  the  great  highways  of  the 
world  ?  This  people,  dead  in  an  inactive  pride,  is  shut  up  within 
itself,  and  has  not  even  once  during  three  thousand  years  felt  an 
electric  shock  of  love  and  genius.  Come  nearer,  look  at  India ; 
all  the  conquerors  and  all  the  merchants  have  been  there.  She 
has  given  gold,  pearls,  diamonds,  ivory  to  all  who  have  desired 
them  ;  she  still  feeds  the  ambition  of  the  British  people  with  her 
luxurious  riches  ;  but  do  you  know  anything  else  of  her,  except 
her  sensuality,  equal  to  her  humiliating  dependence  ?  There  re- 
main the  nations  into  whose  hands  Mahomet  placed  the  scimitar 
and  Islamism,  and  they  have  certainly  made  illustrious  use  of 
the  one  and  of  the  other.  Yet,  where  are  they  ?  After  having 
invaded  Europe  by  its  two  extremities  and  conquered  our  Cru- 
sades, as  the  war  became  learned  we  perceive  their  glory  waning; 
and  the  success  of  their  arms  hiding  no  longer  the  Avretched- 
ness  of  their  civilisation,  we  look  on,  not  at  their  decadence,  but 
at  their  last  gasp.  Look  now  to  yourselves,  Gentlemen,  con- 
template yourselves ;  you,  the  sons  of  the  Bible.  You  are  noth- 
ing by  your  territory ;  Europe  is  but  a  plot  of  ground  by  the  side 
of  Africa  and  Asia,  and  yet  they  are  your  colors  and  your  flags 
which  I  meet  with  on  all  the  seas,  in  the  islands,  and  in  the  ports 
of  the  whole  world.  You  are  present  from  one  pole  to  the  other 
by  your  navigators,  your  merchants,  your  soldiers,  your  mission- 
aries, your  consuls.  It  is  you  who  give  peace  or  war  to  nations, 
who  bear  the  destinies  of  mankind  in  the  folds  of  your  narrow 
robe.  Descend  upon  the  public  place,  lift  up  your  voice.  I  hear 
the  old  and  the  new  continents  in  agitation ;  they  ask.  Who, 
then,  is  in  commotion  ?  It  is  you,  sons  of  the  Bible  !  That  lan- 
guage which  travels  so  far  is  yours ;  it  has  brethren  and  sisters 
in  all  the  capitals ;  it  gathers  together  all  passions  and  all  devot- 
edness.  If  a  man  from  the  planks  of  an  adventurous  bark,  who 
speaks  your  language  and  bears  your  image,  reaches  some  dis- 
tant shore,  it  is  at  once  seen  that  the  great  human  power  has 
appeared  there.  By  the  brightness  of  his  look,  by  his  manner 
of  treading  the  ground,  the  earth  recognises  the  Christian,  and 
its  savage  inhabitant  bows  his  head  and  exclaims.  These  are  the 
children  of  the  sun,  those  whom  our  traditions  promised  to  us, 
and  for  whom  we  waited. 


268  Hecollcctlons  of  Notre  Dame. 

What  activity  !  What  power  !  What  glory  !  And  all  that, 
is  yourselves ;  and  the  Bible  has  made  you  what  you  are.  If, 
then,  nations  are  constituted  by  reason  of  the  truth  contained 
in  their  sacred  books,  and  if  the  Christian  nations  surpass  all 
the  others,  as  angels  surpass  all  created  natures,  it  follows  that 
the  highest  degree  of  truth  is  contained  in  the  Christian  books. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  piii'pose  to  follow  minutely  the  life  of 
the  preaclier.  From  year  to  year  he  emerged  fi'om  his  re- 
treat and  appeared  in  Notre  Dame.  In  1848,  hoping  much, 
and  still  faitliful  to  his  first  convictions,  he  took  decided 
part  with  Lamartine.  He  was  even  returned  with  tumult- 
uous joy  as  one  of  the  deputies.  He  only  held  the  post, 
however,  for  ten  days,  confessing  that  pohtics  were  not  to 
his  taste,  nor  administrative  ability  amongst  his  powers. 
Our  readers  will  also  remember  that  he  excited  the  anger 
and  irritability  of  the  Ultramontane  party  by  vindicating 
the  Italian  revolution  of  the  same  year  ;  for  this  liis  friendly 
biographer  deems  it  necessary  to  ajDologise.  When  circum- 
stances so  maiwellously  changed  in  Paris,  and  the  fatal 
coup  d'  Hat  was  struck,  Lacordaii-e  bade  farewell  for  ever  to 
Notre  Dame,  and  only  preached  once  again  in  Paris,  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Koch,  where,  nineteen  years  before,  he  had 
stammered  out  his  first  sermon  and  failed.  He  came  to 
preach  before  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  and  Cardinal  Don- 
net.  He  took  for  his  text  the  words  of  Da^-id  on  his  death- 
bed to  his  son  Solomon,  "  Esto  vir ;"  in  our  translation — 
"  Show  thyself  a  man."  In  the  course  of  his  sermon  he 
said, 

The  practice  of  the  greatness  of  the  Gospel  is  incompatible 

with  meanness  of  character It  is  well  that  we  should  know 

what  we  mean  by  making  Christians ;  whether  we  intend  to 
make  real  men  or  vulgar  men ;  whether  for  us  man  is  the  Iioino, 
whom  the  ancients  derived  from  humus,  earth,  slime;  or  the 
vir,  the  man  who  is  something  more  than  earth,  who  has  cour- 
age, soul,  virtue,  virtus A  man  may  have  a  great  mind  and 


JPulpit  MonograpliS :  Lacordairc,  Binney.    269 

a  vulgar  soul,  an  intellect  capable  of  enlightening  his  age,  and 
a  soul  capable  of  dishonoring  it:  he  may  be  a  great  man  in 
mind,  and  a  wretch  at  heart.  He  who  employs  vile  means  even 
to  do  good,  even  to  save  his  country,  is  never  anything  but  a 
villain.* 

It  may  well  be  believed  that  such  words  would  not  be 
IDalatable  to  such  a  governmeut,  and  more  especially  com- 
ing fi'om  a  conspicuous  church,  and  fi'om  an  eminent  man. 
His  great  faithful  soul  revolted  fi'om  the  baseness  of  the 
Paris  priesthood,  which  had  crawled  down  to  every  trick 
of  servility  and  meanness,  crying  down  all  the  rights  of 
political  liberty,  declaring  that  liberty  of  conscience  ought 
to  be  restricted  in  proportion  as  truth  prevailed,  and  laud- 
ing the  Inquisition.  Lacordau^e  was  faithful  to  those  days, 
in  which,  from  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame,  and  m  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Ai-chbishop,  he  had  said,  "  Whoever  in  his  cry 
for  right  excepts  a  single  man — whoever  consents  to  the 
slavery  of  a  single  man,  be  he  white  or  black,  were  it  only 
to  extend  to  the  unlawful  binding  of  a  single  haii*  of  his 
head,  that  man  is  not  sincere.  Catholics,  know  this  well, 
if  you  want  hberty  for  youi'selves,  you  must  will  it  for  all 
men  under  heaven."  Now,  in  the  charge  of  the  enslave- 
ment of  France,  he  said,  "  I  hope  to  hve  and  die  a  penitent 
CathoHc,  an  impenitent  Liberal ;"  and  his  letters  fi'om  So- 
reze  bear  out  all  the  noble  words  he  ever  uttered  in  his 
hfe  :  he  says,  "I  am  indeed  solitary,  but  I  am  with  my 
duty,  and  that  is  enough.  One  of  the  consolations  of  my 
present  life  is  to  hve  only  with  God  and  children  ;  the  lat- 
ter have  then-  faults,  but  they  have  as  yet  betrayed  and 
dishonored  nothing." 

For  one  single  day  he  appeared  again  in  the  ranks  of 
illustrious  men  in  Paris,  when  he  was  received  into  the 

*  This  passage  was  construed  as  a  demonstration  against  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  III.,  whose  course,  it  will  be  remembered,  ex- 
cited such  deep  and  bitter  indignation  in  England  at  that  time. 


270  Tlie  Death  of  Lacordaire. 

Frencli  Academy  ;  but  lie  hastened  back  to  liis  3'outhfiil 
audience  at  Soreze  ;  many  himdi'eds  of  miles  from  the 
French  capital  he  preached  from  week  to  week  in  the  col- 
lege chapel,  with  as  much  care  and  affection  as  in  Paris  to 
the  mighty  multitude.  He  prepared  also  his  Letters  to  a 
Young  Man  on  the  Christian  Life.  As  he  advanced  fai-ther 
into  life  his  modesty,  always  remarkable,  increased.  A 
self-depreciation  went  side  by  side  with  a  profound  appre- 
ciation of  sacred  trust.  He  knew  also  more  of  that  detach- 
ment of  heart,  the  foundation  of  aU  wisdom.  Death  met 
him  comparatively  in  early  life  ;  for  a  long  time  he  was  the 
victim  of  pain — even  of  tortures  ;  he  lay  long  in  gi'eat  and 
solemn  silence.  After  the  manner  of  his  Church,  he  spent 
hours  together  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  crucifix,  and 
he  said  to  one  who  visited  him,  "  I  am  unable  to  pray  to 
Him,  but  I  look  upon  Him."  His  last  words  were,  "  My 
God,  open  to  me,  open  to  me." 

It  is  impossible  to  read  as  much  of  his  life  as  I  have  read 
and  know  without  being  sacredly  and  painfully  affected  by 
it.  He  seems  to  me  always  to  have  moved  beneath  the 
recollection  and  impression  of  deep  internal  soitows  ;  in- 
deed, he  says,  "  There  is  a  dart  which  we  must  always  carry 
in  the  soul ;  we  must  try  not  to  lean  on  the  side  where  it 
is,  without  ever  thinking  of  taking  it  out."  His  oratory 
was  affected  by  this  sense  of  pain.  Montalembert  speaks 
of  his  accent  and  its  touching  power.  To  us,  no  doubt,  as 
we  read  his  orations  there  seems  something  occasionally 
almost  inflated  ;  the  fault  of  Bossuet  reappears,  but  wo 
have  so  much  more  symjiathy  with  the  topics  of  Lacordau'e 
than  with  any  upon  which  Bossuet  ever  spoke.  His  first 
conferences  are  the  most  earnest  and  determined  effort  of 
the  pulpit  to  put  itself  en  rapport  with  the  youthful  intelli- 
gence of  the  age  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  They 
have,  no  doubt,  many  of  the  vices  of  French  expression, 
vivid  generalization  and  bold  assertion,  and  they  are  often 


Pulpit  Monograiylis :  Lacordaire^  Blimey.    271 

unjust  to  Protestantism,  but  frequently  the  words,  like  a 
stroke  of  lightning,  reveal  to  the  eye  the  whole  subject 

I  have  mdeed  felt  and  seen  something  bearing  resem- 
blance to  it  in  my  experience  in  the  si3eech  of  a  well-known 
orator  in  our  midst,  famous  twenty-five  years  since  for  his 
power  over  3'oung  men.  I  believe,  if  I  were  to  give  my 
impression  of  the  power  and  style  of  Father  Lacordaire,  I 
should  astonish  some  hearei-s,  and  perhaps  make  Count 
Montalembert  somewhat  indignant  by  describing  him  as  a 
Thom.vs  Binney,  with  an  additional  flash  of  quicksilver  in 
the  blood,  a  higher  fence  of  sohtude  in  the  life,  and  a 
broader  platform  from  which  to  throw  his  voice  over  the 
Chui'ch  ;  greatly  alike  in  this,  that  they  have  both  sought 
to  bring  themselves  into  vigorous  relation  to  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  age. 

Pre-eminently  beyond  most  preachers  of  this  age  must 
Thomas  Binney  be  spoken  of  as  the  preacher  to  the  young, 
to  the  thoughtful  and  the  earnest  of  the  young — to  young 
men  and  young  women  ;  in  a  word,  to  noble,  earnest- 
hearted  manhood.  He  evidently  has  more  s^Tnpathy  with 
mental  than  merely  emotional  son*ows  ;  for  sentimental 
sorrows  he  perhaps  has  no  sympathy  ;  for  the  seeming  of 
suffering  which  so  largely  afflicts  many  Christian  souls,  and 
needs — as  it  is  a  seeming  itself — the  ministry  and  consola- 
tion which  seems,  he  has  no  sympathy  ;  all  about  him  and 
about  his  words  is  thoroughly  human  and  thoroughly  real : 
in  all  he  says  he  lives,  and  therefore  he  understands  and 
speaks  to  living  souls  ;  thus  no  man  has  done  more  to  bring 
to  an  end  that  sentimental  style  of  talk  which  proflcrs  con- 
solations never  felt,  to  souls  by  whom  they  are  never  needed. 
Nothing  more  prominently  distinguishes  his  preaching  than 
its  humanness — its  rcaUty  and  ti-uth.  It  is  the  case,  no 
doubt,  there  are  many  states  of  mind  and  heart  he  has  not 
known  or  felt ;  but  I  beheve  he  has  never  attempted  to 
speak  to  them. 


272  Thomas  Binney. 

I  have  had  repeated  to  me  a  tradition  of  our  preacher. 
Called  somewhere  to  addi-ess  some  students,  a  veiy  demure 
and  well-intentioned  brother  was  fated  to  precede  him.  He 
divided  his  homily  into  two  parts — "  And  first,"  said  he, 
"  young  men,  remember  that  you  ai'e  to  be  men  of  one 
book,  the  Bible  ;  that  is  the  book  you  have  to  read  and  ex- 
pound, and  you  must  know  no  other ;  and  remember  as 
you  pass  through  great  cities,  pray  '  Turn  away  mine  eyes 
from  beholding  vanity  ; '  let  your  eyes  look  straight  on  ; 
the  shops  are  nothing  to  you,  their  shows,  their  prices,  and 
their  gauds,"  etc.,  etc.  When  ]VIi\  Binney  rose,  he  said,  he 
was  so  "  unfortunate  as  to  have  to  give  to  them  advice  ex- 
actly opposite  to  that  they  had  just  heard ;  hence,"  he 
said,  "  although  the  reading  of  other  men  may  be  slight, 
for  amusement,  or  professional,  you  must  read  everj-thing. 
Look  at  aU  books — bad  books,  that,  if  necessaiy,  you  may 
brand  them,  or  point  the  bad  page  to  the  readers  of  them  ; 
good  books,  that  you  may  commend  them ;  then,  as  you 
walk  through  the  streets,  havuig  prayed  in  the  study,  keep 
your  eyes  open  there  ;  look  at  all  things — ^prices  and  peo- 
ple— how  they  buy  and  how  they  sell,  the  sellers  and  the 
purchasers,  the  hours  of  labor  and  the  hom'S  of  rest ;  try 
to  look  at  all,  try  to  know  the  whole  tariff  of  trade,  and 
do  not  be  afraid  to  find  in  it  all  matter  for  your  sermon. 
You  are  teachers !  Commend  '  yourselves  to  every  man's 
conscience  in  the  sight  of  God.'  Ivnow  then  the  world's 
thoughts  and  the  world's  ways,  that  you  may  be  the  world's 
masters  and  ministers."  These  words  must  have  greatly 
astonished  the  fii'st  tedious  brother,  but  how  much  more 
human  and  good  ? 

It  is  said  when  St.  Francis  entered  a  town  to  preach,  all 
the  clergy  went  forth  to  meet  him,  accompanied  by  the 
youth,  the  women,  and  the  childi'en,  waving  their  branches 
of  greeting  triumphantly  before  him.  The  preaching  of 
the  minister  of  the  Weigh  House  would  never  awaken  any 


JPulpit  Monographs :  Lacordaire^  Binney.    2^^ 

Buch  homage  ;  but  then,  St.  Francis  spoke  to  a  larger  con- 
gregation, as  when  he  began  his  gi'eat  sermon  in  the  square 
in  Spoleto  with  the  words,  "Angeh,  homines,  diemones." 
The  preacher  who  omits  all  apostrophe  to  the  angels  and 
devils,  and  contents  himself  with  talking  to  men — he  can- 
not expect  so  mighty  a  mustering.  Much  more  after  the 
order  of  homage  accorded  to  IVIr.  Binney  was  that  paid  to 
St.  Jerome  when  he  preaclied  in  Padua  and  Milan,  and 
other  cities  ;  the  doctors  and  masters  ceased  their  lectiu'cs, 
saying  to  their  scholars, — "  Go,  hear  the  preacher  of  the 
best  sentences  and  the  worst  rhetoric  ;  gather  the  fruit  and 
neglect  the  leaves  ;"  and  that  is  a  better  compliment  than- 
to  say,  "  Go,  and  hear  what  a  mstlirig  there  is  among  the 
leaves,  and  as  to  the  fi'uit,  if  there  be  any,  tiy  to  get  it." 

For  to  ]\Ir.  Binney's  style  I  may  apply  a  remark  by  way 
of  characterization  he  has  himself  used  in  prefacing  one 
of  his  discoiu'ses — "  It  is  of  that  rough,  rude  order — that 
artificial  and  somewhat  exaggerated  sort  of  utterance, 
which  /  designedly  adopt  when  writing  what  is  to  be  read  to 
a  mixed  multitude,"  Aiiificial,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word,  his  style  can  never  be  said  to  be,  only  in  the  fact 
of  a  conscious  usage  of  forms  of  expression  which  it  is 
well  known  will  strike  and  tell.  It  is  often  the  case  that 
a  man  describing  a  style  of  thought  or  argument  describes 
his  own  ;  this,  too,  he  has  done  when  he  says, — "  An  illus- 
tration is  not  a  mere  prettiness,  an  ornamental  i:)hrase  that 
might  be  left  out  without  detriment  to  the  train  of  thought, 
it  is  something  which  reaUy  lighU  up  that  train  of  thought, 
and  enables  the  reader  or  hearer  to  see  the  aim  as  well  as 
feel  the  force  of  the  logic,  when  the  understanding,  having 
done  its  work,  passion  and  genius  shall  cro^^^l  the  whole 
with  some  vivid  illustration,  which  shall  make  it  stand  out 
with  a  distinctness  that  shall  never  be  forgotten !  It  is  one 
great  faculty  of  the  mind,  holding  up  a  lighted  torch  to  the 
icorkmansiiip  of  aru>thei\"  This  is  a  very  fail*  description 
12* 


274         Faculty  Ministering  to  Faculty 

of  all  the  greater  efforts  of  our  writer,  and  of  his  usual 
style  in  the  pulpit.  It  is  a  rare  thing  indeed  to  find  in 
union  such  a  force  of  thought  so  wholly  free  from  dialectic 
bands,  and  winged  by  so  much  passion,  yet  with  no  action, 
ever  breaking  against  the  cahn  and  dignity  of  the  lofty 
purpose  ;  there  are  no  prettinesses  in  the  style — no  elegant 
tropology,  or  fancy  dandyism  of  dress  and  adornment 
Everything  there  seems  necessary — passion  and  thought 
hold  each  other  in  check,  and  so  produce  a  truly  admirable 
unity  ;  hence  thought  never  seems  cold,  because  it  is 
winged  by  genius,  and  the  genius  is  never  undisciplined  or 
wild,  because  it  is  compelled  to  keep  the  pace  of  the  more 
serious  and  orderly  thought. 

This  orderly  procession  of  thought  leading  on  and  up  the 
attendant  train  of  all  the  faculties,  is  the  gi'eat  chaiTQ  of 
the  preaching  of  Thomas  Binney,  and  it  may  be  said  he  is 
only  happy  when  he  sees  clearly ;  and  happy  are  those 
moments  to  the  hearers,  too,  when  the  understanding  and 
the  emotions  are  in  rapport.  The  reason,  at  any  time,  any 
speech  is  uneffective  upon  the  hearers  is  because  either  the 
statement  is  not  clearly  seen  or  clearly  felt — with  IMr.  Bin- 
ney, eminently  not  to  see  clearly  is  to  be  unhappy  in  min- 
istration. But  all  speakers  who  speak  not  merely  words 
of  rote  must  well  know  that  state  in  which  the  mind  is 
pursuing  its  way  in  public,  attempting  to  set  forth  thoughts 
perhaps  rather  pondered  than  either  perceived  or  felt ;  the 
mind  an-ives  at  a  certain  stage  of  its  journey,  where  it 
drops  the  spark  which  sets  fire  to  the  concealed,  the  hith- 
erto unknown  wealth,  there  are  juices  and  spices  for  the 
incense,  their  is  fuel  for  the  flame,  there  is  oil  for  the  lamp. 
Admirably  has  Mr.  Binney  himself  described  this  state 
w^hen  he  speaks  of  ministers  "who  are  never  visited  by 
gushes  of  light  UTadiating  the  word — never  filled  with 
emotions  of  solemn  raptiu'C  fi-om  the  vivid  impressions  and 
enjoyment  of  its  truths,"  the  argument  is  in  a  blaze.     And 


Pulpit  Monographs :  Lacordaire^  Binney.    275 

this  is  indeed  the  value  of  preparation,  clear,  long,  and  ear- 
nest, for  the  pulpit,  or  for  the  gi'eat  occasion  ;  then,  if  the 
mind  is  fi'ee,  or  capable  of  freedom,  and  the  self-possession 
of  the  soul  be  equal  to  its  instincts,  then  the  notes  and  pa- 
pers all  discarded,  or  only  in  brief  prompting  hints  before 
the  eye — then  when  long  preparation  has  toned  do\vTi  all 
the  superfluous  and  meretricious  adornments,  or  appen- 
dages of  the  subject,  then  how  subhme  is  the  power !  Of 
course  the  fi'ce  mind,  the  heart  that  lives  its  teachings  and 
its  uttered  im2:)ulscs,  to  whom  it  is  impossible  to  preach 
traditions,  must  often  fail — fail  perhaps  beneath  the  very 
weight  of  "the  burden  of  the  Word  of  the  Lord."  But 
even  m  the  faihu'e  of  such  souls  there  is  the  sign  of  that 
which  is  greater  than  the  finest  successes  of  other  men  ; 
even  as  we  have  seen,  w^hen  Eobert  Hall  broke  down  in  the 
pulpit  in  his  fii'st  efforts,  his  failure  sent  old  Dr.  Ryland  to 
his  knees  m  prayer,  that  so  promising  a  sph'it  might  bo 
kept  for  the  Church. 

Sacredly  and  seriously  prepared ;  the  order  of  the 
thought  established  in  the  mind,  and  the  emotions  felt,  but 
held  in  leash,  ready  for  the  spring — sui'ely  this  gives  some 
conception  of  the  way  in  which  men  may  i^reach  ;  and 
while  there  is,  perhaps,  no  necessity  that  this  should  be 
the  ordinary  process  of  preparation,  yet  men  who  have 
really  been  prophets,  and  have  had  commimion  with  souls, 
have  usually  prepared  thus,  and  thus  men  must  prepare 
if  they  would  have  their  preaching  to  become  a  power. 
Hence,  although  ^Mr.  Biuney's  books  are  mostly  small,  they 
are  thought  books.  A  sermon  is  sometimes  a  closely  com- 
pacted compendium  of  the  process  of  thought,  and  the  de- 
hneation  of  truth  on  the  subject  of  which  he  treats.  Far 
from  being  mere  sermons  in  the  ordinary  sense — that  is,  a 
slight,  sketchy  illustration  of  a  text — they  often,  hke  the 
sermons  of  Barrow,  exhaust  a  subject,  thus — "  The  Law 
our  Schoolmaster,"  thus,  "Salvation  by  Fii'c  and  Fullness," 


276  His  Pliilosopliical  Meiliod. 

thus,  "Life  and  Immortality  brought  to  Light ;"  each  is 
an  edifice  of  Christian  theology.  But  Mr.  Binney  rears 
for  himself;  scholastic,  scientific  theology  is  unknown 
here  ;  the  preacher's  soul,  the  Bible,  and  the  Spirit  build 
together,  and  alone. 

And  here,  perhaps,  I  may  stop  for  a  few  moments,  and 
indulge  my  hearers  and  myself  with  two  or  three  illustra- 
tive readings  of  those  moods  of  power  to  which  we  have 
refen-ed.  We  may  take  the  following  as  a  fair  illustration 
of  Mr.  Binney's  argumentative  and  philosophical  method  in 
the  palpit : 

TKE   TITEORY   OF   TUS    MYTHICAL    ORIGIN    OF   CHRISTIANITY. 

The  hypothesis  is  something  of  this  sort — The  writings  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments  are  the  utterance  and  embodiment 
of  the  inner  subjective  life  of  the  Hebrew  race.  "Thus  and 
thus  was  it,"  as  these  books  in  their  own  style  relate,  that  the 
great  mystery  of  the  universe  shaped  itself  to  their  conceptions. 
"Thus  and  thus"  they  thought  about  the  -visible  and  the  invis- 
ible, the  heavens  and  the  earth,  God  and  man,  the  infinite  and 
eternal,  duty  and  sin,  guilt  and  forgiveness.  Throwing  their 
internal  impressions  into  the  form  of  a  splendid  ritualism,  and 
associating  this  with  rude  myths  of  flaming  mount  and  super- 
natural voices  that  gave  to  it  a  divine  origin  and  descent — 
"  thus  and  thus  it  was,"  that  this  singular  people  at  once  made 
palpable  to  themselves,  by  visible  objects,  their  subjective  ideas 
of  spiritual  truth,  and  indicated  the  profound  earnestness  of 
their  souls  by  their  full  persuasion  of  heavenly  guidance.  At  a 
subsequent  period,  stimulated  by  the  recent  appearance  and  ex- 
traordinary character  of  an  illustrious  individual — to  r^any  of 
his  contemporaries  a  great  prophet — to  even  modem  unbeliev- 
ers a  person  singularly  gifted  and  singularly  virtuous — the- best 
if  not  the  wisest  of  men — "  thus  and  thus  it  was,"  in  the  sec- 
ond jDortion  of  their  writings  that  tliis  same  people,  or  large 
portions  of  them,  with  certain  powerful  minds  as  their  leaders, 
threw  their  strong  subjective  conceptions  of  spiritual  truth  into 
the  supposed  fiicts  of  the  history  of  Jesus,  and  the  Christian  in- 
terpretation of  the  Jewish  ritual — an  interpretation  which  at- 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Lacordaire^  B'lnney.    277 

tributcd  to  it  a  previously  prophetic  design,  and  superseded  it 
by  an  asserted  supernatural  fulfilment.  The  impression  of  the 
greatness,  and  the  memory  of  the  transcendent  virtu«,  of  Jesus, 
so  deepened  and  grew  in  the  minds  of  His  contemporaries,  and 
of  those  who  were  immediately  affected  by  them,  that  there 
came  at  last  to  be  no  adequate  mode  in  which  this  deep  feeling 
and  these  sacred  and  reverential  memories  could  be  bodied 
forth,  but  in  an  imaginary  miraculous  record  of  his  life— in 
something  superhuman  being  associated  with  his  person — and 
in  the  extraordinary  notion  of  his  having  in  some  way  given  a 
reality  to  the  spiritual  idea  of  the  old  law. 

Without  dwelling  on  the  extreme  improbability  of  this — this 
making  into  honest  and  truthful  men,  persons,  by  no  means 
fools,  who  "  professed"  to  record  actual  miracles,  and  "  pretend- 
ed" to  direct  intercourse  with  heaven  —  without  dwelling 
upon  this,  let  us  allow  for  a  moment  the  hyjDothesis  referred  to 
— let  us  accept  it  as  the  solution  of  the  facts — and^  then  notice, 
briefly,  one  or  two  of  the  things  that  would  seem  to  result  from 
it.  In  the  first  place,  it  must  certainly  be  confessed  that,  taking 
all  the  facts — the  way  in  which  the  several  pieces  constituting 
what  we  called  the  Bible  were  composed — the  sort  of  book  they 
make  when  put  together — the  connection  between  the  two  se- 
ries of  writings,  and  the  two  supposed  religious  dispensations 
— taking  these  and  kindred  things,  and  looking  fairly  and  hon- 
estly at  them,  it  must  certainly  be  conceded  that  anything  par- 
allel to  such  facts  is  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  True  or  fiilse,  the  Jewish  and  Christian  religions  are 
the  most  wonderful  things  of  which  there  is  any  account  in  the 
records  of  the  race.  \Vhat  an  extraordinary  people  that  He- 
brew people  must  have  been,  who  in  the  wilderness  commenced, 
and  in  subsequent  ages  perfected,  a  ritual  system  embodying  in 
its  significance  some  of  the  i^rofoundest  truths  afterwards  to  be 
demonstrated  by  logicians  and  j^hilosophers— and  who  did  this 
by  no  Divine  or  supernatural  assistance,  but  simply  from  the 
impulses  of  their  own  inward  religious  life,  which  struggled  to 
express  itself,  and  which  found  utterance  in  this  way  !  How 
wonderful  that  this  rude  people  should  go  on,  perfecting  their 
ideas  and  multiplying  their  myths,  till  they  took  a  new  form  in  the 
history  of  Jesus,  and  in  the  spiritual  or  transcendental  interpre- 


278       The  Mythical  Origin  of  Christianity. 

tation  of  the  old  ritual  system  which  that  introduced!  Wliat 
a  marvel  it  is,  too,  that  the  whole  thing  should  have  been  so 
constructed,  and  so  carried  out,  as  to  seize  on  the  human  mind 
leyond  Judea — to  subdue  the  most  cultivated  portions  of  the 
human  race — to  supersede  all  other  myths,  theologies,  and  phil- 
osophies with  which  it  came  in  contact — and  to  be  spreading 
in  the  world  as  a  regal  power,  to  the  present  day ! 

But,  while  this  general  fact  is  a  presumption  or  something 
singularly  powerful  in  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew  people,  it  should 
be  next  noticed,  that  the  extraordinary  nature  of  the  Christian 
interpretation  of  the  Hebrew  ritual  is  itself  worthy  of  specific 
remark.  The  idea  of  taking  the  tabernacle,  or  temple,  the  altar 
and  priesthood,  with  all  the  accessories  of  the  ritual  serdce,  and 
giving  them  a  significance — finding  for  them  a  design  and  a  re- 
ality, that  should  at  once  fill  the  earth  and  reach  up  to  heaven  ! 
— think  of  that.  After  the  prophecies,  or  supposed  prophecies, 
which  for  ages  had  stirred  the  national  heart,  filling  it  with 
splendid  anticipations  of  a  regal  and  conquering  Messiah  ; — af- 
ter He  was  supposed  to  have  come,  and  then  to  have  departed, 
and  to  have  so  departed  as  to  have  disappointed  the  hopes  cher- 
ished to  the  last  by  His  immediate  followers  ; — after  this,  what 
an  idea  it  was  to  turn  the  very  fact  which  shattered  their  expec- 
tation into  a  fulcrum  on  which  to  fix  an  engine  that  should  move 
the  world  ?  What  an  intrepid  and  sublime  daring  there  is  in  the 
thought  of  Messiah  the  Priest  being  placed  in  the  foreground 
of  Messiah  the  King  ! — the  wide  earth  the  jDlace  of  sacrifice,  the 
cross  of  ignominy  the  altar  of  propitiation,  the  uj^per  world  the 
holy  of  holies — the  way  into  it  being  opened  and  sanctified  by  the 
resuscitated  Redeemer,  who  passes  through  the  veil  of  the  visi- 
ble heavens,  as  into  the  interior  of  a  temple,  "there  to  appear  in 
the  presence  of  God  for  us  " — for  11s,  for  humanity,  and  for  the 
accomplishment  of  those  sjHritual  objects  which  humanity  spir- 
itually needs !  However,  the  truth  of  all  this,  objectively  con- 
sidered, may  be  denied  ;  the  whole  thing  rejected  as  fanciful — 
as  being  nothing  more  than  the  imaginative  forms  in  which 
strongly-excited  and  fervid  minds  threw  their  conceptions  of 
spiritual  things,  from  their  inability  to  find  for  them  fit  expres- 
sion and  adequate  embodiment  in  mere  language  ;—  however  this 
may  be,  it  must  certainly  be  admitted,  that  there  is  a  stupend- 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Laconlaire^  JBinney.    279 

ousness  about  the  theory — a  magnitude  and  a  magnificence,  that 
should  lead  to  the  recognition  of  it  as  of  something  to  be  class- 
ed with  the  creations  of  genius  ! 

We  shall  have  a  miracle  of  human  genius,  instead  of  one  of 
Divine  power ; — a  prodigy  of  earth  and  nature,  instead  of  an  ac- 
tual "  sign  from  heaven  !  "  All  things  considered,  it  will  be  found, 
I  suspect,  that  to  admit  the  Divine  origin  of  our  religion,  makes 
a  much  smaller  demand  on  our  credulity,  than  to  accept  the  hy- 
pothesis for  accounting  for  its  existence  suggested  by  philoso- 
phic naturalism.  Waiving,  for  the  moment,  higher  motives,  we 
might  say,  "  That,  as  men,  we  are  believers  for  the  credit  of  our 
understanding;  as,  if  we  were  Jews,  we  should  be  disposed  to 
become  believers  for  the  credit  of  our  ancient  faith.* 

I  select  another  citation  from  Mr.  Binney's  more  practical 
and  devotional  method.  In  the  following  extract  he  is  speak- 
ing of  ministers  who  do  not  spiritually  succeed  because  they 
do  not  add  eminent  piety  to  eminent  attainments  and  en- 
dowments. The  extract,  I  may  remind  my  hearers,  is  fi'om 
the  celebrated  sermon  entitled,  "  The  Closet  and  the 
Chm*ch,"  preached  before  the  Congregational  Union  of 
Ministers,  from  the  text  "The  pastors  have  become  brut- 
ish, and  have  not  sought  the  Lord  ;  therefore,  they  shall 
not  prosper,  and  all  theii*  flocks  shall  be  scattered." 

Whatever  their  denomination,  they  are  to  be  supposed  to  have 
"  entered  by  their  respective  doors  into  the  sheep-fold,"  and  not 
to  have  "  climbed  up  over  the  wall,"  or  to  have  forced  admission 
in  any  other  way.  Nor,  again,  is  it  to  be  supposed,  that  they  are 
destitute  either  of  natural  gifts  or  acquired  ability.  Their  pow- 
ers may  be  great,  vigorous,  and  varied.  These  powers  may  have 
been  duly  trained  by  academical  discipline,  enriched  by  science, 
purified  by  taste,  brought  into  contact  with  all  knowledge,  and 
then  concentrated  on  subjects  of  sacred  lore.  The  men  may  be 
distinguished  by  lofty  thoughts,  logical  acuteness,  ready  utter- 
ance, force  of  words;  with  minds  as  fertile  in  the  lights  and  il- 
lustrations which  the  imagination  supplies,  as  opulent  in  thema- 

*  '•  The  Law  our  Schoolmaster,"  pp.  151-lGO. 


28o  W/tal  Ilap'peiu  when  Pastors^  etc. 

tcrials  of  instructive  discourse.  Farther :  it  is  not  to  be  sup 
posed  that  their  manner  in  worship  is  careless  or  irreverent,  or 
their  instructions  crude,  vapid,  repulsive,  or  destitute  of  labori- 
ous intellectual  preparation  :  it  may  even  be  imagined  that  they 
strictly  adhere  to  the  gravity  and  decorum  of  sacred  things,  and 
never  advance  what  has  not  been  somewhat  carefully  reviewed. 
IL  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  they  deny  the  truth  and  inculcate 
dangerous  and  deadly  error.  Their  customaiy  topics  m&ry  be 
"  substantially  "  evangelical,  or,  at  least,  consistent  with  the  ver- 
ities of  Scripture.  It  need  not  even  be  supposed  that  they  are 
wanting  in  feiwor,  variety,  or  impressiveness.  They  may  have 
much  of  the  artillery  of  eloquence  at  their  command  ; — may  be 
*'sons  of  thunder,"  striking  to  the  depths  of  the  conscience  and 
the  heart ;  or,  they  may  speak  in  the  "  still  small  voice,"  with 
the  words  of  love  and  the  accents  of  tenderness,  so  that  their 
speech  "  shall  drop  like  the  rain,  and  distil  as  the  dew."  Nor, 
lastly,  are  they  to  be  conceived  as  chargeable  with  any  gross  im- 
morality of  behavior.  Their  lives  are  not  to  be  supposed  vicious 
nor  their  consciences  burdened  with  great  guilt ; — their  charac- 
ters are  free  from  the  suspicion  of  any  flagrant  impropriety,  and 
their  conduct  on  the  whole,  in  all  outward  and  visible  things, 
equal  to  the  demands  of  society  respecting  them.  In  spite,  how- 
ever, of  all  that  we  have  enumerated,  in  spite  of  personal  ability, 
official  order,  pulpit  accomplishments,  grave  and  decorous  "  pub- 
lic "  devotion,  force  of  utterance,  animated  feeling.  Scriptural 
topics,  moral  worth ; — in  spite  of  these  and  of  other  excellencies, 
there  is  one  evil  in  the  habits  of  these  men,  which,  hidden  as  it 
is  from  the  human  eye,  is  real  and  deadly,  and  eats  "  as  doth  a 
canker"  into  all  they  utter  and  all  they  do.  They  "do  not 
prosper,"  and  their  flocks  are  "  scattered, — for  they  have  become 
*'  brutish,"  and  "have  not  sought  the  Lord." 

This,  then,  is  the  defect  that  poisons  everything  ;— they  are 
not  men  of  "frequent,  earnest,  private  devotion."  They  have 
great  abilites, — "  but  they  do  not  pray."  They  are  ministers  of 
Christ,  according  to  outward  order, — "  but  they  do  not  pray." 
They  are  good,  and,  perhaps,  even  great  preachers, — "  but  they 
do  not  pray."  They  arc  fervent,  pungent,  persuasive,  convinc- 
ing,— "  but  they  do  not  pray."  They  may  be  zealous  and  enter- 
prising,— leaders  in  the  movements  of  public  activity,— the  tiist 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Lacordairc^  Blnney.     281 

and  foremost  in  popular  excitement, — frequent  in  tlieir  appeals, 
— abundant  in  their  labor3,-^working  zealously  in  various  modes 
and  in  divers  places, — "  but  they  do  not  pray."  They  are  men 
of  integrity,  purity,  benevolence, — "  but  they  do  not  pray."  And 
THIS  ONE  THING — their  "  restraining  prayer," — their  not  "  call- 
ing upon  God," — their  "not  seeking  after,"  nor  "stirring  up 
themselves  to  take  hold  of"  Him, — tliis,  like  the  want  of  love 
in  the  Christian  character,  "  stains  the  glory"  of  everything 
else ; — it  renders  worthless  their  genius,  talents,  and  acquisi- 
tions, obstructs  their  own  spiritual  jDrospcrity,  impedes  their  use- 
fulness, and  blasts  their  success.  Though  a  minister  were  an 
apostle,  "  and  did  not  pray,"  his  "  speech  and  his  preaching  " 
would  not  be  "  with  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of  pow- 
er." "  Though  he  had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understood  all 
mysteries  and  all  knowledge,  and,  though  he  had  faith  that 
could  remove  mountains,  '  and  did  not  pray,'  he  would  be  noth- 
ing." "  Though  he  gave  all  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  his 
body  to  be  burnt,  '  and  did  not  pray,'  it  would  profit  him  noth- 
ing." "  Though  he  spake  with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  an- 
gels," "  and  did  not  pray,"  he  would  be  but  "  as  sounding  brass, 
or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  He  might  be  "  like  unto  one  that  hath  a 
pleasant  voice,  and  a  lovely  song,  and  that  plays  well  uix)n  an  in- 
strument ; "  but  the  music  of  the  lip  and  the  hand  only  will 
never  charm  away  the  evil  spirit  from  Saul ;  nor  can  it  have  in 
it  that  divine  and  life-giving  harmony  which  "  of  stones  can 
raise  up  children  unto  Abraham."  * 

And,  at  the  risk  of  quoting  too  fi-eely,  I  must  present  my 
hearers  with  the  comprehensive  and  glowing  dehneation  of 
the  Psalms  of  David  in 

THE    SERVICE    OF   SONG. 

The  songs  of  Solomon  were  a  thousand  and  five.  But,  how 
shall  we  describe  those  of  the  Psalms  ?  Than  Solomon's  fewer 
in  number,  but  of  higher  inspiration  and  richer  thought.  As 
to  their  "  form,"  they  include  all  varieties  of  lyric  composition  ; 
they  are  of  every  character  as  to  the  nature  of  their  subjects, 

*  Four  DiscDursos.— TVie  Closet  mid  the  Church,  pp.  29-35. 


282  Tlte  Psalms  of  David. 

and  of  all  shades  and  colors  of  i)octic  feeling ;  but,  as  to  their 
"  essence, "  they  are  as  a  Light  from  heaven  or  an  Oracle  from 
the  sanctuary :— they  discover  secrets.  Divine  and  human; — 
they  lay  open  the  Holy  of  Holies  of  both  God  and  man,  for  they 
reveal  the  hidden  things  belonging  to  both,  as  the  life  of  the 
One  is  developed  in  the  other.  The  Psalms  are  the  depositories 
of  the  mysteries,  the  record  of  the  struggles,  the  wailing  when 
worsted,  the  pa?ans  when  triumphant  of  that  life.  They  are  the 
thousand-voiced  heart  of  the  Church,  uttering  from  within,  from 
the  secret  depths  and  chambers  of  her  being,  her  spiritual  con- 
sciousness—all that  she  remembers,  experiences,  believes ;  suf- 
fers from  sin  and  the  flesh,  fears  from  earth  or  hell,  achieves  by 
heavenly  succor,  and  hopes  from  God  and  his  Christ.  They  are 
for  all  time.  They  never  can  be  outgrown.  No  Dispensation, 
while  the  world  stands  and  continues  what  it  is,  can  ever  raise 
us  above  the  reach  or  the  need  of  them.  They  describe  every 
spiritual  vicissitude ;  they  speak  to  all  classes  of  minds ;  they 
command  every  natural  emotion.  They  are  penitential,  jubilant 
adorative,  deprecatory  ; — they  are  tender,  mournful,  joyous,  ma- 
jestic ;  soft  as  the  descent  of  dew  ;  low  as  the  whisper  of  love ; 
loud  as  the  voice  of  thunder;  terrible  as  the  Almightiness  of 
God !  The  effect  of  some  of  them  in  the  temple  sei-vice  must 
liave  been  immense.  Sung  by  numbers  carefully  "  instructed," 
and  accompanied  by  those  who  could  play  "  skilfully  ;  "  arrang- 
ed in  parts  for  "  courses  "  and  individuals,  who  answered  each 
other  in  alternate  verse ; — various  voices,  single  or  combined, 
being  "  lifted  up,"  sometimes  m  specific  and  "  personal "  ex- 
pression, as  the  high  service  deepened  and  advanced, — priests, 
Levites,  the  monarch,  the  multitude, — there  would  be  every  va- 
riety of  "pleasant  movement,"  and  all  the  forms  and  forces  of 
sound,  personal  recitative ;  individual  song ;  dual  and  semichoral 
anti phonal  response;  burst  and  swell  of  voice  and  instruments; 
attenuated  cadence ;  apostrophe  and  rejDcat ;  united,  full,  harmo- 
nious combinations.  With  such  a  service,  and  such  psalms,  it 
was  natural  that  tlie  Hebrews  should  love  with  enthusiasm  and 
learn  with  delight,  their  national  anthems,  songs,  and  melodies  ; 
nor  is  it  surprising  that  they  were  known  among  the  Heathen  as 
a  j)eople  possessed  of  these  treasures  of  verse,  and  devoted  to 
their  recitation  by  tongue  and  harp.     Hence  it  was  that  their 


Pulpit  Monographs:  Lacordaire^  Jjinney,    283 

enemies  required  of  them  (whether  in  seriousness  or  derision  it 
matters  not),  "  the  words  of  a  song,"  and  said  "  sing  us  one  of 
the  songs  of  Zion." 

It  is,  I  presume,  an  incontestable  fact,  that  genius  of  the 
highest  order  seldom  finds  its  way  into  the  pulpit ;  it  is 
tine  now,  as  ever,  that  still  "  the  foohsliness  of  men  "  is  the 
channel  for  "the  wisdom  of  God."  In  the  world  without 
the  Church  there  are  so  many  soiu'ces  of  fame  and  emolu- 
ment— 

Man  may  range 
The  court,  the  camp,  the  vessel,  and  the  mart ; 
Sword,  gown,  gain,  glory,  ojQfer  in  exchange 
Pride,  fame,  ambition,  to  fill  up  his  heart, 
And  few  there  are  whom  these  will  not  estrange. 
Man  has  all  these  resources. 

and  none  of  them  point  especially  to  the  pulpit  at  all,  and 
certainly  not  to  the  Dissenting  Pulpit.  The  Pulpit  of  the 
Church  of  England  has  ever  been,  but  for  its  fiiction 
against  Dissenting  power,  notoriously  feeble,  in  comparison 
with  its  great  power  in  the  cloister  and  the  press.  With  a 
few  fine  exceptions,  the  great  men  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land seem  to  lay  aside  all  the  peculiar  attributes  of  their 
genius  as  they  enter  the  pulpit.  I  admit  there  are  excep- 
tions ;  but,  considering  that  the  Church  exists  to  teach,  how 
very  few  the  ex(?eptions  are.  And  it  must  be  further  said, 
that  a  certain  restrictiveness  has  done  much  to  keep  down 
the  freedom  of  soul,  which  is  the  inborn  heritage  of  genius. 
I  believe  that,  in  very  rare  instances  only,  will  genius  suc- 
ceed in  the  pulpit,  perhaps  never  in  the  smaller  country 
town  ;  there  is  more  hope  for  it  even  in  the  small  country 
village,  w^here  departure  fi'om  an  estabHshed  and  conven- 
tional order  of  expression  is  regarded  with  more  charity 
and  toleration.  Usually,  in  the  small  town,  the  people  re- 
quire a  solemn  homage  to  ancient  platitudes,  and  eschew 
aU  new  experiences,  and  suspect  the  very  saimdness  of  the 


284  Genms  in  the  Pulpit. 

faith,  if  it  is  proved  by  an  argmiieiit  too  original  or  daring 
in  its  colors  or  texture.  Hence  it  has  come  to  pass,  that 
many  people,  cultured  people,  suppose  that  genius  has  no 
home  m  the  Pulpit,  and  some,  that  it  has  no  business  there. 
And  yet,  how  rich  in  all  that  belongs  to  the  highest  moods 
of  the  human  soul  is  the  Pulpit  literature  of  oui'  land. 
Surely,  the  man  who  should  closely  look  through  its  lore, 
would  find  no  lack  of  the  i^ui'est  gold  ;  if  in  its  pages  could 
not  be  found  the  undisciiDlined  fancy  of  the  masters  of  fic- 
tion (though  even  this  questionable  faculty  is  not  wanting), 
here  are  the  noblest  tones  of  poetiy,  the  most  subtle  and 
profound  touches  of  feeling  ;  the  most  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  ways  and  workings  of  the  human  mind  and 
heart  ;  here  stand  in  the  Pulpit  hbrary  the  words  of  the 
masters  of  sentences  ;  the  words  of  the  wise  ;  here  are  the 
ornate,  and  the  more  stately  and  cold  ;  the  monarchs  of 
parable  and  illustration — and  those  who  follow  the  lofty  and 
consecutive  chain  of  thought  to  its  wondrous  and  imex- 
pected  close  ;  and,  if  the  Pulpit  hteratiu'e  of  the  present 
age  does  not  equal  that  of  the  past,  it  is  not  wanting  some 
recent  additions  giving  to  us  great  hopes  for  the  futm-e. 

To  the  order  of  men  of  genius  eminently  does  jMi*. 
Binney  belong.  In  his  sermons  there  is  nothing  florid, 
flickering,  or  fine  ;  nothing  merely  said  to  finish  a  period, 
or  to  give  a  ghtter  to  a  paragraph.  On  the  contrary,  there 
is  nothing  cold  ;  there  is  great  idiomatic  strength,  fi-e- 
quently  in  his  preaching  there  is  gi*eat  terseness  ;  but  in 
the  written  sermon  this  yields  to  argiunent  and  to  the  sus- 
tained and  resolute  conception  of  the  tojoic. 

The  author  of  the  Lamias  of  the  Temple  has  introduced 
into  his  sketch  of  the  subject  of  these  remarks  many  illus- 
trations of  his  combined  humanity  and  humor.  He  has 
ofibred,  also,  an  apology,  for  the  introduction  of  humor 
into  the  Pulj)it  ;  and  in  this  particular  has  placed  ]Mi\ 
Binney  by  the  side  of  some  eminent  and  illustrious  names, 


Pulpit  Monograplis :  Lacordaire^Binney,     285 

especially  Latimer  and  South.  I  have  no  need,  therefore, 
to  enlarge  here  by  way  of  defence,  but  it  may  suffice  to  say 
that  ]\Ir.  Binney  uses  humor  and  wit,  he  does  not  abuse 
them.  In  his  printed  discourses  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  many  of  those  racy  words  will  be  found  which  at  once 
relieved  the  discourse  and  hghtened  the  argument,  and  per- 
haps waked  up  some  di'owsy  auditor ;  but  in  his  printed 
discources  there  are  many  of  those  human  touches  which 
can  only  proceed  from  the  himiorous  pencil,  for  human  and 
humor  are  one.  Thus  he  describes  the  mere  popular 
preacher  as  "  a  strolling  star  tempting  benevolence  with 
a  promise  of  pleasure."  (It  would  be  well  if  many  churches 
would  bear  in  mind  the  characterization.)  My  hearers 
wiU  remember  his  happy  delineation  of  David — a  perfect 
picture  to  the  hearer's  eye  through  the  ear  : 

DAVID. 

The  shepherd  boy  was  bold  and  brave,  manl}^  and  magnani- 
mous, and  had  in  him,  from  the  first,  tlie  slumbering  elements 
of  a  hero  and  a  king.  His  harp  was  the  companion  of  his  early 
prime.  Its  first  inspirations  were  caught  from  the  music  of 
brooks  and  groves,  as  he  lay  on  the  verdant  and  breathing  earth, 
was  smiled  on  through  the  day  by  the  bright  sky,  or  watched 
at  night  by  the  glowing  stars.  Even,  then,  probably,  he  had 
mysterious  minglings  of  the  Divine  Spirit  vdih.  the  impulses  of 
his  own ;  was  conscious  of  cogitations  with  which  none  could 
intermeddle,  which  would  make  him  at  times  solitary  among 
numbers,  and  which  were  the  prelude  and  prophecy  of  his  future 
greatness.  He  became  a  soldier  before  he  Avas  twenty.  Ten 
years  afterwards  he  was  king  by  the  suffrages  of  his  own  tribe. 
During  most  of  the  interval,  his  life  was  of  a  nature  seriously 
to  i^eril  his  habits  and  principles.  He  was  obliged  to  use  rude, 
lawless  and  uncongenial  agents.  He  had  to  Hve  precariously 
by  gifts  or  spoil.  "  He  was  hunted  like  a  partridge  on  the 
mountains."  By  day  providing  for  sustenance  or  safety,  and 
sleeping  by  night  in  cave  or  rock,  field  or  forest.  And  yet  this 
man— in  the  heat  of  youth,  with  a  brigand's  reputation  and  a 


286  Salvation  by  Fire, 

soldier's  license — 'watched  carefully  his  inner  self;  learned  from 
it  as  a  pupil,  and  yet  ruled  it  as  a  king — and  found  for  it  con 
genial  employment  in  the  composition  of  some  of  the  most 
striking  of  his  psalms.  When  his  companions  in  arms  were 
carousing  or  asleep,  he  sat  by  his  lamp  in  some  still  retreat,  or 
"considered  the  heavens"  as  they  spread  above  him,  or  medi- 
tated on  the  law,  or  engaged  in  prayer,  or  held  intimate  com- 
munion with  God,  and  composed  and  wrote  (though  he  thought 
not  so)  what  shall  sound  in  the  church,  and  echo  through  the 
world,  to  all  time  ! 

But  especially  we  love  those  pictures  in  which  the 
humanizing  power  of  the  preacher  is  seen  shedding  over 
his  subject  a  pathos  and  a  beautiful  tenderness  as  melting 
as  it  was  unsuspected.  "Who  can  forget  that  vi\id  picture 
of  the  Catholic  girl's 

SALVATION   BY   FIRE. 

Look  at  that  poor  Catholic  girl,  there ; — doing  her  penance, 
and  counting  her  beads  ;  repeating  her  "  aves,"  and  saying  her 
"  pater-nosters  ;"  lighting  a  candle  to  this  saint,  or  carrying  her 
votive  offering  to  another ;  wending  her  way  in  the  dark,  wet 
morning  to  early  mass ;  conscientiously  abstaining  from  flesh 
on  a  Friday ;  or  shutting  herself  up  in  conventual  sanctity,  de- 
voting her  life  to  joyless  solitude  and  bodily  mortifications  ? 
She  is  imagining,  perhaps,  that  she  is  piling  up  by  all  this  a 
vast  fabric  of  meritorious  deeds,  or  at  least  of  acceptable  Chris- 
tian virtue.  She  may  expect  on  accoimt  of  it  to  hear  from  the 
lips  of  her  heavenly  Bridegroom,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faith- 
ful "  one — "  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  "  Thou  shalt 
walk  with  me  in  white,  for  thou  art  worthy."  Tlv,  however,  be- 
lieve that  "  she  labors  in  vain,  and  spends  her  strength  for 
nought ;"  that  she  is  building  with  "  wood,  hay  and  stubble  ;" 
and  that  the  first  beam  of  the  light  of  eternity  will  set  fire  to 
her  worthless  structure,  and  reduce  to  ashes  the  labors  and  sac- 
rifices of  her  whole  life  !  Be  it  so.  ITer  ^^wark  may  be  burnt;" 
she  may  "  suffer  loss  ;''''  but  she  herself  mny  be  mercifully  ^'-  saveil y 
In  the  midst  of  all  that  mistaken  devotedncss  to  the  gathering 
and  amassing  of  mere  lumber  as   materials  for  building  up  a 


Piilpit  Monogra2)lis :  Laeordaire^  Bmney.    287 

divine  life,  even  in  connection  with  the  strange  fire  of  an  erring 
devotion  flaming  up  towards  saints  and  Madonnas,  there  may- 
be in  her  soul  a  central  trust  in  the  sacrifice  and  intercession  of 
the  "  one  Mediator,"  which  shall  secure  the  salvation  of  the 
superstitious  devotee,  at  the  very  moment  that  she  witnesses 
the  destruction  of  her  works.  The  illustration  is  an  extreme 
one.  I  purposely  select  it  because  it  is  so.  The  greater  in- 
cludes the  less. 

And,  more  important  by  far  than  the  defences  in  which 
he  engaged  for  the  outworks  of  Nonconformity,  we  reckon 
to  be  the  impulse  he  gave  to  a  higher  strain  of  devotion 
within  the  chui'ches  of  the  Denomination.  It  is  a  wonder- 
ful thing  that  the  relation  of  the  Minister  to  the  Service  of 
Song  in  the  House  of  the  Lord  should  ever  have  been  broken. 
Yet  nothing  is  more  certain  than  the  fact,  that  for  genera- 
tions the  minister  handed  over  this  as  a  pai-t  of  the  wor- 
ship in  which  he  had  but  little  concern  ;  and,  in  many  in- 
stances, he  principally  exercised  his  influence  only  to  repress 
all  efforts  which  might  be  made  to  restore  to  the  service, 
harmony  and  beauty.  Very  industrious  even  the  energies 
put  forward  for  a  long  time  for  the  suppression  of  all 
taste  and  ai-t  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  Romanism  had  made 
beautiful  things  to  be  an  abomination  in  rehgious  service, 
it  was  thought  that  a  bamlike  architecture,  and  a  music 
where  all  chords  were  only  used  for  discordance,  were  most 
fitted  for  the  production  of  Divine  impressions.  This  had 
long  been  felt  by  the  churches.  The  value  of  the  great 
central  man  of  action  is,  that  he  has  power  and  genius  to 
intei-pret  a  i^opular  sentiment  and  to  supply  a  w^ant.  This 
IVIr.  Binney  did.  The  Service  of  Song  in  the  House  of  the 
Lord  was  gi'catly  insti-umental  in  awakening  a  new  feeling 
thi'oughout  the  Denomination,  and  creating  in  our  midst  a 
sublimed  Psalmody.  The  Prayers  of  IMr.  Binney,  too,  intro- 
duced another  element  ;  too  frequently  prayer  had  dege- 
nerated into  mere  confessions  of  faith,  the  mere  answers 


288         Recollections  of  the  -  Weigh  House, 

to  a  catecliism — statements  of  a  creed.  Perhaps  the  per- 
fection of  prayer  would  be  tlie  preservation  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Liturgy,  without  the  foiTQ,  combming  the  special 
prayer  of  the  hallowed  Christian  heart,  and  the  wail  of 
man  as  a  creatura  Prayer  is  of  a  region  above  criticism — 
almost  above  remark.  Perhaps  the  only  thing  we  should 
permit  ourselves  to  say  is  :  "Did  not  our  hearts  bum 
within  us  ?" — and,  in  a  very  eminent  degi'ee,  both  by  his 
personal  power  of  prayer  and  by  his  general  aid  to  the 
great  work  of  the  sanctuary  devotion,  ]Mr.  Binney  has 
aided  the  Divine  services  of  his  Denomination. 

Would  that  I  could  carry  you  back  to  an  old  scene  in  the 
Weigh  House,  beginning  with  my  experience  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  centu):y  back.  Thither  I  often  went  on  a  Sabbath 
evening.  The  singing  always  hearty  and  strong,  but  pro- 
foTindly  devotional  and  clear  ;  the  minister  standing  there 
tall,  still,  collected,  and  announcing  the  hymn.  Then  the 
prayer,  always  so  fresh,  and  haUowmg  and  real ;  then  the 
sennon,  in  which  somehow  everybody  felt  as  if  the  preacher 
were  talking  with  him.  Preaching  of  all  kinds  and  styles, 
but  always  new,  always  fresh,  to  a  young  mind.  What 
scenes  I  have  beheld  there !  Sometimes  the  preacher,  stand- 
ing in  perfect,  cool,  supreme  command,  holding  all  the 
hearis  of  the  audience  in  his  hand,  and  doing  what  he  would 
with  their  tears.  Such  was  his  sermon  for  Eobert  M'Ken- 
zie*  the  co-pastor  of  Dr.  Wardlaw,  lost  in  the  wreck  of  the 
Pegasus.     Always  all  along  the  preaching  was  heard — 

The  still,  sad  music  of  liumanitj. 

Scarcely  ever  did  the  preacher  dilate  on  Natui-e,  or  any  of 
her  majesties  :  his  landscapes  were  always  the  heights  and 
depths  of  human  souls,  or  the  solemn  mountaia  passes  and 
peaks  of  abstract  thought,  and  the  more  gloomsome  ques- 
tions of  human  history.  Sometimes  the  sermon  was  "  one 
j)crfect  cln-ysolitc"  of  piu'e  abstract  thought,  very  variously 


Pidp it  Monographs:  Lacordaire^  Binney.    289 

impressing  the  hearers  ;  sometimes  a  spirit  floating  in  an 
ether  of  its  own  world  ;  and  sometimes,  like  a  spent  s\\dm- 
mer,  toiling,  raftless  and  buoyless,  over  and  through  a  diffi- 
cult sea.  At  a  later  period,  I  heard  many  of  the  Lectures  on 
Proverbs;  truth  to  say,  too,  I  have  beheld  scenes  of  strange 
humor  flowing  over  that  great  assembly  ;  but  look  which- 
ever way  we  will,  we  are  compelled  to  see  that  taU,  com- 
manding figure  slowl}""  shaking  itself  into  action,  as  a  lion 
might  shake  the  dewdi'ops  and  the  sleep  fi'om  his  mane, 
after  a  night  in  the  cave  ;  the  hand  slowly  passing  tlu'ough 
the  hah'  on  one  side  of  the  head  ;  the  speech,  now  a  httle 
more  rapid,  so  rapid  that  the  speaker  saves  himself  fi'om 
stumbling  by  picking  up  the  last  word,  j)ronouncing  it 
again,  and  making  it  the  starting  point  of  a  new  sentence  ; 
then  the  sentence,  or  the  division,  completed  ;  and  the  heav- 
ing of  a  long  sigh,  audible  over  the  whole  chapel,  and  a 
feeling  of  indeterminateness  from  the  speaker  passing  to 
the  hearer  ;  then  some  broken  words,  a  careless  use  of  the 
left  hand  and  the  forefinger  and  thumb  of  the  right  hand, 
engaged  as  if  the  preacher,  instead  of  standing  in  the  pulpit, 
were  standing  in  the  compositors'  room,  throwing  type  into 
"pye."  Then,  perhaps,  some  dark  question  casts  a  strange 
shadow  across  his  thought.  For  instance — "Could  God 
by  power  destroy  sin  ?  Could  He  by  a  physical  act  annihi- 
late it  ?  Could  he  make  a  seraph  out  of  a  Tiberias  or  a 
Borgia,  each  retaining  his  memory  and  consciousness,  as 
He  can  make  an  angel  or  an  archangel  out  of  nothing"?* 
And  now  the  wheel  is  in  motion,  and  words  come,  blow 
after  blow  :  and  the  preacher,  as  he  advances  to  the  close, 
puts  his  hand  through  the  centric  shock  of  his,  in  those 
days,  carelessly  worn  but  beautifully  glossy  hair  ;  and  soon, 
with  a  cogent  appeal  to  practical  thought — the  end.  "  The 
words  of  the  wise  are  as  nails  ;"  they  are  also  as  "  rivers  of 

*"Life  and  Immortality  brought  to  Life  through  the  Gospel," 
see  page  40. 

13 


290         Recollections  of  the  Weigh  House. 

water  in  a  diy  place  ;"  and  the  reader  \\ill  believe  that  those 
scenes  stand  out  in  the  memory  for  the  life  they  communi- 
cated. The  memoiy  of  some  of  those  tones  is  thrilling  yet ; 
the  first  surprise  of  some  sudden  turn  of  thought  comes 
upon  me  now  ;  I  am  again  one  of  that  vast  congregation 
of  young  men — the  fii'st,  perhaps,  of  that  kind  ever  seen  in 
London ;  I  feel  again,  as  then  I  felt,  the  honor  of  being 
bom  for  manhood — bom  to  hve  in  a  hard,  strugghng, 
much-enduring  world.  Certainly,  in  the  da^^s  of  youth, 
many  of  my  first  wider  conceptions  of  the  reality  and  no- 
bleness of  hfe  were  given  to  me  by  Thomas  Binney. 


INDEX. 


Acquire  self-possession 
Age,  characteristics  of  our  . 
Aged  excellence 
Aft-ricultural  wisdom 
Aids  to  reflection,  quotation 

from 
Aim  at  the  Superhuman 
Age  of  Louis  XIV.,  quota- 
tion from    . 
Amiisements,  worldly 
Anecdote — 

Abbe   Boutain,  of 

"Anathema  Maranatha"  . 

Antinomian  preacher,  the 

Divine  and  his  sermons,  . 

Don't  care    . 

Dumb  hear,  the     . 

Greek,  and  deception 

Hidinfv  a  talent 

Hill,  Kowland 

Instinct  for  gowns 

Karnes.  Lord,  and  manure 

Liefchild,  Dr.,  of  . 

Morcain 

Paradise  and  bad  style     . 

"  Peter  crew" 

Preacher's  monitor,  a 

Prince  and  preacher 

"  llax  me  yon  Bible" 

Beading  the  Koran 

Saving  a  remnant 

Studying  the  Fathers 

What  we  learn  from  Euty- 
chu3 

Wiberforce  and  Clarksou, 
of  .  .  . 

Wollaston,  of 
An  evil  life,  effects  of 


PAGE 

174 

18 
i;3i 

184 

220 

1C6 

89 
175 

125 

159 

97 

107 

.  50 

175 

225 

218 

89 

22 

225 

23G 

27 

173 

175 

50 

92 

91 

173 

172 

226 

117 

24 
222 
175 


PAGE 

Antmomian  preacher,  the    .     97 
Apes  and  Glowworms  .  183 

Apparatus  to  every  profes- 
sion ,  ,  .  221 
Arnold's  Dr.,  last  prayer      .  254 
Architecture,       suggestive- 

ness  of        .  .  218 

Arago's  method  of  lecturing  115 
Arrangement    necessary   in 

extemporaneous  speech    .  118 
Art  and  false  ideas  of  .  228 

Ashworth's  Strange  Tales    .     29 

Type  of  an  evangelist  .     86 

Attain  to  holy  wisdom         .  220 
Audiences  great        .  .  183 

Autobiographic  episode,  an  213 
Beecher,     AVard,     character 

and  pov/er  of         .  .  223 

Bible,  the,  a  variety  of  texts,  177 
Biblical  criticism,  value  of  .  230 

how  to  use  it     .  .  230 

Binney,  Thomas — 
and     Lacordaire    com- 
pared .  .  .  271 

a  preacher  to  the  young  271 

sympathy  with  mental 

sorrow        .  .  .  271 

discourse  to  students     .  272 

style      .         .         .        .273 

charm  of  preaching      .  274 

character  of,  works       .  275 

philoso])hical  and  argu- 
mentative method  .  276 

illustration  of    .  .  276 

l)ractical  and  devotional 

method       .  .  .  279 

Closet  an(l  the  Church  .  279 

service  of  song  .  .  281 

(291) 


292       Lamps^  Pitchers^  and  Trumpets. 


PAGE 

Binncy,  Thomas,  coniinved. 

use  of  humor     .  .  284 

character  of  King  David  285 

salvation  by  fire  .  286 

appearance  and  manner 

in  the  pulpit  .  .  288 

Books,  value  of         .  .  226 

power  of  .  .  227 

how  to  use  .  .  228 

Branchinor  out  of  thought  .  154 
Bundle  of  Myrrh,  a  .  .  195 

Bathos,  specimens  of  .112 

Bible,  a  criterion,  the  .     87 

Bibliolatry     .  .  .91 

Brush"wood  preachers  .     92 

Burden  of  the  mystery,  the  70 
Campbell,     Dr.,     quotation 

from  .  .  .178 

Canon  for  public  speaking,  a  108 
Capital  words  .  .179 

Catechism,  value  of  the  .  239 
Catholic  Home  Missions  .  26 
Catholics  work,  how  .     28 

Character  of  King  David    .  285 

of  Shimei  .  .  121 

Characteristics  of  good  con- 
versation   .  .  .  239 

Secretan  Samuel  .  243 

Charnock,  quotation  from  .  169 
Cedars  of  Lebanon,  the  .  100 
Christ  coming  to  the  feast  .  101 

certainty  of  coming      .  101 

Christian  life,  the     .  144 

Christianity  reviewing  her 

defenders    .  .  .28 

Church  and  Dissent .  .  247 

Classical  knowledge  .  242 

Clergymen's  power  .  .  283 

(  losct  and  Church    .  .  279 

Common  things  are  tools  .  229 
Concerning  giving  up  .  240 

Conversation,  value  of  .  234 
Cross,  the,  the  world's  mea- 
sure .  .  .  152 
Cumberland,  night  scene  in  253 
Cultivate  respectable  society  165 
Dangers  of  literary  vanity, 

the  .  .  .111 

David  and  Shimei  .  122 

Death  and  Nature     .  .  251 

Declamation  .  .  180 


PAGE 

Declamation  and  sentiment  181 
Definition  of  Ueograihy      .  231 

physician   .         .  .  224 

Defects  in  Dissenting  denom- 
inations     .  .  .  225 
Details,  necessity  of  .182 
disgusting  instance  of     .  182 
Devil  in  the  dormitory 

a  candlestick      .  .  183 

Saint  and  flea    .  .  183 

Dislike  of  Church  Millinery  68 
Dissent  and  loyalty  .  134 

is  fostered,  how  .  244 

Doing  good,  essays  on  .217 

Domingo,  St.,  Legends  of  .  163 
Drawing  Jeremiah  from  the 

dungeon     .  .  .93 

Eddystone  Lighthouse  .  203 
Edwards    John,     quotation 

from  .  .  .87 

Eli  and  Samuel        .  .     80 

Eloquence — Artificial  .  136 

Real  and  false    .  .112 

England,  evangelization  of    22 

when  great        .  .134 

English  church,  the  .  137 

Erasmus,  quotation  from    .  221 
Essays  to  do   good,  quota- 
tion from        .  .113,231 
Establishment  and  Dissent  241 
Etymology,  value  of  .  103 
Etymological  helps  .  .102 
illustrations           .            .103 
Exposition,  value  of              .  104 
Expositor,  the  true  minister  102 
Extemporaneous   preaching  114 
Firm  will,  necessary  in     .  117 
Fatal  age,  the            .  .     74 
Fear  that  bringoth  a  snare  110 

which  givcth  strength  111 

Featly,  Daniel's,  method  .  97 
Feltham,  Owen,  sayings  of  ll4 
Fireside  scene,  a        .  .  102 

Folly  of  exchanging  pulpits  168 

of  fine  preaching  .  112 

Four  marvels  ,  .  193 

Genius,  foundations  of  .  225 
Geography,  definition  of      .  231 

sacred     .  .  .  231 

Geyser  fountain,  the  .    23 

God  greater  than  faith        .    67 


Index. 


293 


PAGE 

Grace  and  Will        .  .  148 

Grand  necessity  of  speech    .  118 
Greatness  of  Enpjiand  .  134 

Grecian   and  Gothic   archi- 
tecture       .  .  .219 
Greek  Dunces            .  .  243 
Hall,  Robert,  false  estimate 

of    .  .  .  .243 

Harris',  Dr.,  style      .  .17 

Health,  regard  for    .  .  1G5 

value  of  .  .  233 

Heaviness  of  spirit   .  .     31 

Hidden  manna  .  .     97 

Holding  fast,  the       .  .  133 

How  ministers  are  embitter 
ed   .  .  .  .225 

to  seek  a  son      .  .  126 

Horace,  aphorisms,  from      .  230 
House  of  mourning  .   1 20 

Humor,  limitations  of  .  179 

Hlegitimate  ways  to  arouse 

conscience  .  .174 

Hlustrations — 

Ancient  Mariner  .  207 

Bundle  of  Myrrh,  a  .  195 

Cedars  of  Lebanon,  the  .  100 
Character  of  King  David  .  285 
Christian  life,  the  .  .  144 

Church  visible  and  invis- 
ible, the  .  .151 
Closet  and  Church  .  279 
Cross  of  Christ,  the  mea- 
sure of  the  world  .  152 
Dead,  the  .  .  .  151 
Dying  day  of  the  Christian  198 
Eddystone  Lighthouse  .  203 
Eli  and  Samuel  .  .  80 
England's  greatness  .  134 
God,  power  of  .  .  204 
Grace  and  the  will  .  148 
Heads  and  legs  .  .  204 
"  He  brought  me  up"  .  199 
Hold  fast  till  I  come  .  131 
House  of  Mourning  ,  120 
Human  mystery,  the  .  2G5 
"  I  have  sinned"  .  .  193 
Impressions  of  time  .  20(J 
Levite  and  concubine  .  123 
Life  a  warfare  .  .142 
Moral  and  si)iritual  power 
of  work  .            .  .150 


PAGE 

Illustrations,  continued. 

Mountain  on  the  hills,  the  208 
Mythical  hy]K)the;^is,  the  .  27(> 
Nations  and  the  Bible  .  20G 
"  Name    of      the   Lord  a 

strong  tower'    .  .211 

Personal  power  of  the  Bible  S3 
"  Kemember  Lot's  wife  !"  125 
Pen  that  wrote  Paradise 

Lost,  the     .         .  .200 

Salvation  by  fire   .  .  286 

Shiraei  and  David  .  121 

Talk  of  sinners      .  .  202 

Thou  restrainest  prayer  .  128 
Through    Him  were   all 

things     .  .  .201 

Unconsciousness  of  Nature  211 
Vista  view  of  the  past  .  203 
Waiting  for  Christ  .  155 

Wards  of  world's  prison  193 
War  regulations  .  .  194 

Imaginary  death  bed  .  253 

Individualism,  afraid  of       .     25 

sacred     .  ,  .26 

Industry,  what  depends   on  108 

speech  dependent  on      .  108 

Instructions  to  pastors  .  225 
Intellectual  food  imparting  116 
Invading  a  brother's  territo- 
ries .  .  .108 
James  I.,  happy  text  for  .  177 
Judge  Jenkins'  determina- 
tion .  .  .117 
Keep  thy  heart  .  .  96 
Keep  your  brother  minister 

humble       .  .  .107 

Knowledge  of  doing  good   .  231 
Lacordaire,  Pere — 

Saturday  liccicic  on      .  255 

old  woman's  oration  on  255 

birth  and  parentage     .  256 

a  deist ;  passionate  love 

of  liberty    .  .  .256 
purity  of  morals  ;   con- 
version       .             .  .  256 

studies  for  a  barrister  ; 

ordained  priest       .  .  256 

confessor  of  Nuns;  iriend- 

ship  with  De  la  Mennais  256 
starts  thq  Avcnii- ;  colli- 
sion with  Government      .  256 


294       Lamps^  Pitchers,  and  Trumpets. 


PAGE 

Lacordaire,  Pere,  continued 

reply  to  tlie  crown  law- 
yer ;  indicted  at  the  court 
of  assize  .  .  257 

our  oppressors  acquitted  258 

and  Montalcmbert ; 

opens  a  free  school  .  258 

and     the    commissary  ; 

prosecution  in  the  cham- 
ber of  Peers  .  .  259 

fined  ;  rcynarkable  year  259 

and  Mennais  visit  Rome  ; 

part  .  .  260 

yields  obedience  to  the 

Church 

affection  for  Montalcm- 
bert ;  devotion  during  the 
cholera 

death   of    his  mother; 

sympathy  with  Madame 
Swetchine  ;  solitude  ;  first 
attempt  at  preaching 

failure  ;     preaches      at 

Stanislaus'  College ;  suc- 
cess 

charged  with  impiety  ; 

vindication,  in  Notre 
Dame 

flies  to  Rome ;  a  monk  of 

St.  Dominic ;  love  for 
Jesus  ,  .  .204 

characteristics     of    his 

preaching,  illustrations  of  2G5 

sermon  before  the  arch- 
bishop, Mennais  and  the 
Gospel 

boldness,  returns  to  So- 

r(';ze,  letters  on  Christian 
life 

death,  estimate  of  life 

and  character 

Lange  and  Olshausen  com- 
pared 
Latin  coxcombs 

Law  of  composition 
Lebanon,  cedars  of   . 
Legends  of  the  Church 
Leifchild's,  Dr.,  advice 
Little  Jiiblea 
Making  use  of  minister's  ser- 
mons .  .  .  1G4 


230 


2G1 


202 


203 


208 


269 

270 

230 
243 
112 
100 
183 
118 
179 


152 
2:jl 

118 
217 
176 


Manning  and  Dr.  Newman 

compared 
Mather,  Cotton's,  essays 
Maxims       for       extempore 

preaching 
Mental  tools,  on 
Meekness,  power  of 
Method  of  a  chemical  lecturer  240 

requisite  .  .     86 

science  of  language,  the    86 

indispensable     .  .     92 

Mind,  expansive  power  of  .  112 
Minister,  acquisitions  for  a  .  228 
Minister's  vanity      .  .110 

Ministers  'versus  souls  .     22 

Minister  of  high  character,  a  235 
Ministerial  etiquette  .  169 

usefulness,  aspects  of    .  231 

success,  foundation  of  .  168 

Ministry,  a  Divine  institu- 
tion .  .  .  161 

boundless  influence   of  161 

Mistaken  success      .  .  170 

Modern  pulpit,  the 
Monroe's  pastoral  life 

Pastoral  Life,  character 

of    .  .  .  .251 

quotation  from  .  251 

compared  with  Blunt's  251 

Moral  and  spiritual   power 

of  work 
Morning    exercises,    quota- 
tion from 
Morcain  the  missionary 

Mythical  hypothesis,  the     . 

Nail  and  hammer 

Names  cited  of  pulpit  elo- 
quence 

Necessary  use  of  learning  . 

New  name,  the 

Newman,  Dr.,  greatness  of  . 

a  mystic 

Nonconformist  psalmody     . 

Originality,  power  of 

Owen,  John,  incident  in  the 
life  of 

Parish  priest,  duties  of  the  . 

Parsons,  Benjamin,  quoted  102 

Pastoral  conversation,  power 
of    .  .  .  .  235 

power,  secret  of  .  253 


14 

250 


150 

87 

27 

276 

175 

12 

j:20 

97 
152 
152 
287 
351 

160 
235 


Index. 


295 


PAGE 

Peal  of  bells,  a  .  .     99 

Personal  power  of  the  Bible  83 
People,  how  to  get  near  .  284 
Pictorial  power         .  .  252 

I'lutarch,  quoted       .  .  221 

Power  in  a  building,  the      .  218 

in  a  life,  the       .  .  219 

in    doing    few    things, 

the.  .  .  234 

of  the  parlor,  the  .  167 

of  a  sentence,  the  .  15(; 

Prayer  restrained      .  .  128 


consequences  of  129 


for  usefulness,  a 

Prayers,  sinners 

Preacher,  the — 

Biblical  knowledge  to  . 

difficulties  of 

extempore,  the 

must  dilate 

must  labor 

of  Vanity  Fair 

Preachers'  attempts  to  evan- 
gelize 

remuneration  of 

?  what  are 

what  terrifies     . 

Preaching,  conditions  for  ef- 
fective 

Divine  power  of 

like  swimming 

without  a  text   . 

Priests,   sickly   sentimental  234 

Pulpit,  the — 

Depreciation  of  .     13 

Eloquence  contrasted    .     14 

Method  .  .  .89 

Monographs  34, 137, 185,255 

Of  our  age         .  .11 

Of  the  Church  of  Eug- 

land 

Rabelais  of 

Self-consciousness  in 

Work,  to  the  preacher  218 

Puritans,   division  of  texts 

90,  97,  98 

Pusey,  Newman,  and  Man- 
ning .  .  .137 

"  Styles  discriminated  139 

"  Illustration    of    Pu- 

sev's  .  .   141 


234 
130 


19 
110 
114 
110 
153 

25 

15 

12 

110 

113 

1G2 

113 

90 


137 
123 
110 


TAon 
Pusey,  Newman,  and  Man- 
ning, continued. 

"  Life     considered     a 

warfare      .  .  142 

"  Christian  life  .  144. 

Manning,  a  Romanist       .  14G 

"  Characteristics       of 

style  .  .  14G 

"  Phrases     from     ser- 

mons .  .  147 

"  Illustrations  of  style  147 

"  Grace  and  the  will  148 

"  Moral  and  spiritual 

power  of  work      .  150 

"  The  dead      .  .  151 

"  Church    visible   and 

invisible     .  .151 

Newman,  greatness  of     .  153 

"  and  Manning  com- 

pared        .  .  152 

"  Cross  of  Christ,  the 

treasure     of     the 
world        .  .152 

"  Characteristics       of 

style  .  .  153 

"  Br;inching     out    of 

thought     .  .154 

"  A  mystic       .  .  155 

"  All  ministers  .  156 

Religious  essay,  the  .     16 

life,  foes  to         .  .31 

Repetition  needful    •  .  116 

Fox's,  C,  statement      .  116 

Pitt's       .  .  .116 

Brougham's        .  .116 

Robertson,  Frederick —        .     84 

birth  and  parentage     .     35 

love  of  military  life       .     35 

early  days,  and  youth  .     36 

early  f.dth  in  prayer     .    36 

prepares    to   enter   the 

army  .  .  .37 

acquaintance   with   Mr. 

Davis  .  .  .37 

life  changed  b}'  a  dog  .     38 

extract    from     posthu- 
mous papers  .  .     38 
enters  at  Oxford — New- 
man's influence     .  .     39 

hears  Arnold  of  Rugby     39 

sees  Words  wort  li  .     39 


2o6       Lamps^  Pitchers^  and  Trum])ets. 


PAGE 

Robertson,  FrcdericTc,  cont'nued. 


settles  at  Winchester    , 

life  of  self-denial 

spiritual  life 

an  intense  prayer 

death  of  his  sister 

^life  at  Cheltenham 

resolutions 

transition  period 

disgust  with  evangeli- 
calism 

and  the  bishop  of  Ox- 
ford 

settles  at  Brighton 

death  of  his  daughter 

ministerial  introspec- 
tion 

strong  sympathies   for 

liberty 

influence  over  the  work- 
ing class    . 

addresses       them       at 

Brighton 

coward's  castle 

appearance 

Brighton,      unpleasant 

world  of     . 

anecdotes  of 

abhorrence  of  cant 

contempt    of    the    lle- 

corcl 

chivalry  and  knight- 
hood of  character 

sympathy   with  wcmian 

respect  for  scu'vants 

not  free  from  morbid- 
ness  ■  .  .  . 

poet  of  the  pulpit 

walk  in  Hove  church- 
yard 

hatred  of  preaching 

power    of     moralizing 

nature 

an  evangelical 

compared  with  New- 
man 

want  of  robustness   in 

his  views 

views  on  inspiration.     . 

defect  in  his  sermons, 

the  ... 


40 
40 
40 
40 
41 
41 
43 
43 

43 

43 
44 
45 

43 


58 
53 

5o 
57 

58 
51) 

59 
Gl 

Gl 

C2 
63 

G5 


PAoa 

Robertson,  Frederick,  continued. 

God    and     the     under- 
standing    .  .  .66 

God    greater   than   hu- 
man faith  .  .     67 

dislike  of  church  milli- 
nery .  .  .     '" 

his  faith  in  prayer 

solution  of  the  mystery 

of  life 

words  to  working-men 

personal  appearance 

trials,  72  ;  closing  days 

death  ;  funeral  . 

the  man 

character    of    his    ser- 
mons 

theology 

sermons 

characters 
-illustrations  of  style 


of    Scripture 


69 

69 
70 
71 
73 

74 
75 

76 

78 

80 
80 


Sacred  geography,  value  of  231 
Salvation  by  fire       .  .  286 

Sarcasm  on  missionaries  .  168 
Saturday  Remeic,  quotation 

from  .  .  .13 

Science  of  arrangement  .  86 
Scripture  suffereth  violence  88 
Selden,  Lord,  quoted  .  174 

Self-possesf^ion,  advantage  of  125 
124 

113 

09 

137 

138 

99 

87 

112 

80 

239 

106 

138 

105 

107 

110 

m 

k; 

16 


Sentimental  group,  a 
Sermons — 

A  dvantage  of  written 
Arrangement  of    . 
Fitted  for  the  study 
Informing  how  to  prna'-h 
Like  a  house 
Lye's,  Thomas 
Read  with  godly  fear 
Scripture  characters,  on   . 
Table-talk,  on        .  • 
Two  methods 
What  hearers  require 
Written  and  extempore     . 
Written 
\Vhy  written 
Shimei,  type  of  the  world    . 
Simeon  method,  the 

•*     creates,  what 

Simeon,  Charles,  on  dissen- 
ters 


Index. 


297 


his 


Six  rules  for  the  pulpit 
Smith,  Sidney,  on  dissenters 
Souls  'versus  ministers 
Speech,  danfjer  of  fluency  in 
Spurf^eon,  Charles — 

wonderful  success 

sermons 

college 

reasons  for  success 

characteristics    of 

sermons 

voice 

power  over  large  audi- 
ences 

a  born  preacher 

method  of  preparation 

compared  with  Puritan 

preachers   . 

aptness  of  style 

originality  in  texts 

talk  of  sinners   . 

a  vista  view  of  the  past 

Eddystone   Lighthouse 

heads  and  legs  . 

the  power  of  God 

impressions  of  time 

"Ancient  Mariner" 

the    mountain    on  the 

hills 

the  unconsciousness  of 

nature 

the  name  of  the  Lord  a 

"  strong  tower" 

Diibhn  Review  on 

a  marvel 

an  autobiographic  epi- 
sode 

spiritual  energy 

French  contemporaries 

wards    of    the   world's 

prison 

1  have  sinned     . 

war  regulations 

postures  for  soldiers 

a  bundle  of  myrrh 

nothing  but  leaves 

titles  of  sermons 

theology 

eloquence 

dying  day  of  the  Chris- 
tian 


PACE 

170 
12 
22 

110 


185 

185 
180 
187 

187 
188 

188 
189 
189 

191 
192 
193 
202 
203 
203 
204 
204 
200 
207 

208 

211 

.  211 
.  813 
.  213 

213 
214 

215 

193 
193 
194 
194 
195 
195 
195 
190 
198 

198 


PAOB 

Spurgeon,  Charles,  continued. 

he  brought  me  up          .  199 

the  pen  that  wrote  "  Pa- 
radise Lost"  .  .  200 

through  Ilim  were  all 

things        .  .  .201 

Still,  sad  music  of  humanity  288 
Stirring  the  lire        .  .  102 

Style— 
llobertson's,  Frederick     .     80 
Sterne's,  Laurence  .  120 

Symmetrical  theology  .     78 

Temples  of  god         .  .     97 

Texts  and  divisions  .     93 

arrangement    by   divi- 

vision  .  .  .86 

and    inoculation  .  177 

and  sermons       .  .177 

are  needful  .  .     89 

avoid  affectation  .  178 

excess  of  division  .     87 

for  James  L        .  .177 

guides  in  choosing        .  178 

great  mine,  a,  of  .  179 

house  -  that  -  Jack-built 

style  .  .  .95 
method  of  opening       .  101 

"   Parson's,  Benjamin  102 

"    Featly's,  Daniel      .     97 

"   Henry's,  Matthew  .     94 

;  "    Spurgeon's  .     99 

'•  "  Watson's,  Thomas     .  90 

strange  .  .174 

value  of  division  .     95 

two  ideas  in  division     .     88 

what   to   extract    from 

each 

Vinet  on  the  use  of 

Voltaire  on  the  use  of 

Textual  preaching    . 

method,  guides  to 

Theology  of    intellect   and 

feelings 
Tools,  too  much  faith  in 

how  to  use 

Treasures  in  earthen  vessels  173 
Trials  of  an  earnest  minister  72 
True    spirit     in    which    to 

preach        .  .  .  127 

Two  enemies  of  our  age  .  14 
Unfinished  .views   of  truth     84 


89 

90 

90 

101 

102 

20 
223 
224 


298        Lamijs^  Pitchers,  and  Tn-wiJcts. 


PAGE 

Unitarian  pulpit,  the  .     17 

Villag-e  scenery        .  .  253 

Voltaire's  definition  of  a  phy- 
sician .  .  .224 
Waitinf?  for  Christ  .  155 
Wei<Th  House,  an  evening  in  288 
^Valk  in  a  churchyard,  a"  .  58 
Wonderful  letter,  a               .163 


PAGE 

Wisdom  of  being  on  com- 
mittees .  .  .100 
AVisdom  of  marrying  well  104 
"Words  to  working-men  .  70 
Word,  erratic  course  of  the  171 
Worldly  amusements  .  175 
Why  pastors  are  not  suc- 
cessful        .            .            .  232 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS  REFERRED  TO 


PAGE 

PAGE 

Genesis,  i.      . 

.  244 

Psalms,  cxlvi.,  7 

.  193 

Deuteronomy,  xxxii. 

,35 

.  158 

Jeremiah,  x.,  21 

.  279 

Judges,  xix.,  1 

.  123 

Matthew,  v.,  3 

.    98 

1  Samuel,  vii,,  12 

.  203 

Luke,  xvii.,  32 

.  125 

1 xviii.,  17 

.  194 

John,  xi.,  56 

•  101 

2        xix.,  21 

.  121 

Acts,  viii.,  26,  40 

.    92 

1  Kings,  ii.,  2 

.  268 

Romans,  ii.,  4 

.  133 

2        XX.,  15 

.  122 

1  Corinthians,  vi.,  17 

.    87 

Job,  xi.,  7      . 

.  177 

Hebrews,  xiii.,  18 

.  123 

XV.,  4 

.  128 

James,  iii.,  13 

.  237 

Ecclesiastes,  vii.,  2,  { 

5 

.  120 

Revelation,  ii,,  7 

.     97 

viii.,  11    . 

.  123 

ii.,  25       . 

.  131 

Songs  of  Solomon,  i. 

13 

.  195 

Ii\DEX  OF  NvVMES  REFERRED  TO 


Arcliidamns,  231 
Arnold,  Dr.,  39 
Aristotle,  178 
Ash  worth,  J.,  29,  30 
Augustine,  St.,  52 
Allon,  Henry,  172 
Anderson,  Rev.  J.,  44 
Angelo,  Michael,  190 

Beattie,  Dr.,  181 
Beecher,  Ward,  228 
Bellew,  Rev.  J.  C.  M.  13 
Bernardine,  St.,  185 
Bernardine,  of  Sienna,  185 
Binney,  Thomas,  18,  21,  272,  273, 

274,  275,  276,  277,  279,  283, 

287,  289,  290 
Blunt,  Rev.  W.,  235,  241,  243, 

250,  251 
Bogue,  Dr.,  12 
Brainerd,  David,  40 
Bridges,  Rev.  Charles,  170 
Brooks,  Mr.,  250 
Burns,  Robert,  74 
Byron,  Lord,  41,  74 
Byron,  Lady,  41,  74 

Campbell,  Dr.,  178 
Carey,  168 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  222 
('harnock,  169 
Clarkson,  Thomas,  24 
Cobbett,  W.,  190 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  220 
Columbus,  219 
Cranmer,  Archbishop,  208 
Culverwell,  228 
Curran,  14 

(300) 


Daly,  Bishop,  38 
D'Alembert,  66 
Davis,  llev.  W.,  37 
Dodd,  Dr.,  13 
Domingo,  St.,  183 

Erasmus,  221 
Erskine,  Lord,  14 
Eudamidas,  221 

Faber,  Father,  26 
Foster,  John,  20 
Fox,  W.  J.,  18 
Felix,  Le  Pere,  215 

Gresley,  175 
Griffin,  John,  12 
Guyer,  John,  13 

Hall,  Robert,  12, 17,  242 
Harris,  Dr.,  16,  17 
Henrv,  M.,  93 
Herodotus,  243 
Hill,  Rowland,  89 
Hogarth,  182 
Homer,  222 
Horace,  230 
Howe,  John,  170 
Hume,  David,  66 
Hyacinthe,  215 

James,  Angell,  12 

Jay,  William,  12 

John,  St.,  the  Baptist,  170 

Keble,  John,  39 
Ken na way,  44 
Knox,  Alexander,  228 


Index  of  Names  Referred  to. 


301 


Lacordaire,  Tere,  255,  256,  257, 
258,  259,  2G0,  261,  26:2,  264, 
269,  270,  271 

Lamb,  Charles,  u3 

La  Place,  66 

Lcifchild,  Dr.,  236 

Livingstone,  219 

Luther,  13,  172 

Macintosh,  Sir  J.,  243 
Manning,  Archd.,  139,  140,  146, 

147,  151,  154 
Martineau,  J.,  18 
Marlborough,  219 
Marshman,  168 
Massillon,  216 
Mather,  Cotton,  217 
Martvn.  Henry,  40 
McAll,  Robert,  12 
Melancthon,  178 
Morley,  Samuel,  21 
Monro,  Rev.  E.,  250,  251,  252 

Newman,  Dr.,  39.  61,  139,  140, 

152,  153.  155,  156 
Neibuhr,  41 

Parsons,  Benjamin,  102 

Parsons,  James,  12 

Plato,  190 

Porter,  Dr.,  178 

Pusey,    Dr.,  139,   140.  141,  146 

Pycroft,  226 


Quesnel,  179 

Raphael,  74.  190 

Robertson,  F.  W, 

47,  54.  61,  64, 


54,  35.  38,  44, 


Robinson,  Robert,  87 
Ryle,  Rev.,  250 
Sandford,  Archbishoj),  250 
Secr>itan,  Rev.  S.,  243,  247,  249 

Schedel,  (Dr.),  243,  247,  249 

Selden.  Lord,  174 

Scott,  Sir  W.,  222 

Shakespeare,  222 

Shellev,  W  B.,  40 

Sherman,  Rev.  J.,  172 

Simeon,  Charles,  13,  16, 

Smith,  Sidney,  11 

Socrates,  190 

Spurgeon,   Chas.,   98,   185,    187, 

189,    190,   191,   192,  193,  IsH, 

195,  197,  212,  213 
Stratten,  James,  12 
Sterne,  Laurence,  178 

Teignmouth,  Lord,  44 
Theresa,  St.,  63 
Thornton,  Mr.,  44 
Trench,  Ladv,  38 
Tucker,  180 ' 

Vinet,  20 
Voltaire,  66,  89 

Watt,  James,  219 
Waugh,  Alexander,  12,  92 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  219 
Wilberlbrce,  (W.),  24 
Wiikie,  182 
Wordsworth,  39,  67 

Young,  Dean,  180 
Young,  Dr.,  181 
Young,  Dr.  John,  228 


INDEX  OF  BOOKS  llEFERRED  TO. 


Allon's  (Henry)  Life  of  James  Sherman,  172 

Aristotle's  Ethics,  178 

Ashworth's  (John)  Strange  Tales  froni  Humble  Life,  29 

Assembly's  Catechism,  239 

A  Voice  from  a  Mask,  107 

An  Enquiry  into  Four  Remarkable  Texts,  87 

Biuitains  (M.)  Art  of  Extempore  Preaching,  117 

Beecher's  (Ward)  Eyes  and  Ears,  228 

Bridge's  (Charles,  Rev.)  Christian  Ministry,  170 

Blunt's  (Rev.  J.)  Duties  of  the  Parish  Priest,  235 

Biuney's  (Thomas)  Closet  and  the  Church,  279 

The  Law  our  Schoolmaster,  279 

Brook's  (Rev.  N.)  Tracts  for  Priests  and  People,  250 

Boyd's  (A,  K.  H.)  Recreations  of  a  Country  Parson,  240 

Candlish's  (Dr.)  Life  in  a  Risen  Saviour,  162 

Clavis  Mvstica,  Featly's  ;  or.  Key  for  opening  difficult  Texts,  97 

Coleridge's  (S.  T.)  Aids  to  Reflection,  78,  220 

Eclectic  Beview  for  January  and  February,  18G5,  20 

Faber's  Essay  on  Catholic  Home  Missions,  20 

Fox's  (W.  J.)  Sermons,  131 

Hood's  (Paxton)  Earnest  Minister,  103 

Howe's  (John)  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous,  228 

(John)  Dominion  of  Christ  over  the  Invisible  World,  228 

The  Living  Temple,  228 

Vanity  of  "Man  as  Mortal,  238 

Irving's  (Edward)  Incarnation,  228 

Cox's  (Alexander)  Essays,  228 

Life  of  Alexander  Waugh,  92 

Mason's  Student  and  Pastor,  217 

Mather's  (Cotton)  Manuactio  ad  Miuisterium,  217 

Student  and  Treacher.  217 

Essays  to  do  Good,  231 

Monro's  (Rev.  E.)  Pastoral  Life,  250 
Morning  Exercises,  87 
Newman's  (Dr.)  Lectures.  223 
Oliphnnt's  (Mrs.)  Salem  Chapel,  14 
I'aiiers  on  Preaching,  IIG 
Porters  Lectures  on  Preaching,  172,  177,  173 
(302) 


Index  of  Boohs  lief  erred  to.  303 

S^^%!/^^)  ^^i'^to^ical  Enquiry  into  the  Theology  of  Gerraany  33 

Pycrott's  Twenty  Years  in  the  Churcli,  230 

Robertson's  (F.  W.)  Sermons,  75 

Smith's  (John)  Exposition  of  the  Creed,  96 

Smitli's  (John)  Exposition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  96 

(Dr.  J.)  Nature  and  End  of  the  Sacred  Office  12G 

Spurgeon's  (Rev.  C.)  Sermons  188 

Stanley's  Sinai  and  Palestine,  231 

Sterne's  (Laurence)  Sermons,  120 

Tucker's  Light  of  Nature,  180 

Voltaire's  Age  of  Louis  XIV.,  90 

Ware's  (Dr.)  Sacred  Rhetoric,  108 

Whittington's  (Dr.  L.)  Art  Method  in  Sermons,  Bib.  Sac,  1861  89 

Uykehamist  s  Papers  on  Preaching  and  Public  Speaking  100 ' 

loungs(Dr.  John)  Christ  of  History,  228 

(Dr.)  Night  Thoughts,  181 

• (Dean)  Sermons,  180 


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PUBMSIIED    BY 


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506   BROADWAY,   NEW   YORK. 


CRUDEN'S     COMPLETE     CONCORDANCE    TO    THE 
HOLY  SCRIPTURES  ;    or,  A  Dictionary  and  Alpha- 
betical Index  to  the  Bible.    By  Alexander  Cruden,  M.A. 


IV. — A  Concordance  to  the  Proper 
Names  of  the  Bible,  and  their  meaning 
in  the  original. 

V. — A  Concordance  to  the  Books  called 
the  Apocrypha. 

To  which  is  appended  an  original  life 
of  the  Author,  illustrated  with  an  accurate 
Portrait  from  a  Steel  Engraving. 


By  which,  I. — Any  verse  in  the  Bible 
may  be  readily  found  by  looking  for  any 
material  word  in  the  verse.  To  which  is 
added — 

1 1. — The  significations  of  the  principal 
words,  by  which  their  true  meanings  in 
Scriptures  are  shown. 

II L — An  account  of  Jewish  customs 
nnd  ceremonies  illustrative  of  many  por- 
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T 


M.  W.  Dodcfs  Catalogue, 

The    MImprIss   System    of   Graduated    Slrr.uU 
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THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST.— Harmonized  from  the  Four 
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^in  preparing  and  teaching  the  lesson,  which  will  prove  of  great  pradlical  service. 


M.    IV.  Dodd  s  Catalogue. 

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The  above  are  divided  into  One  Hundred  Lessons  to  correspond  with  the 
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T 


HE   PATH   OF  JESUS.     With  cloth  back,  folded  for  the 
Pocket, $0  20 

—  For  the  Wall,  mounted  on  rollers,  size  4x5  feet,      .       7  00 


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larger  scales.  The  pocket  size  is  large  enough  for  class  use.  The  wall  size  should 
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THE  STEPS  OF  JESUS.     With  Chart.     iSmo.,  cloth,  %o  75 
"  "  Pocket  edition,  cloth,  flexible,     35 

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bf)ok  ibr  classes  studying  the  life  of  Christ,  and  is  especially  adapted  as  a  reward  01 
pres^n'  for  such 


M.  IV.  DodcVs  Catalogue, 

^IMxMONS'    SCRIPTURE    MANUAL.      AlphabeticaJly  and 

^   Systematically  arranged.     Designed  to  facilitate  the  finding  of 

Proof  Texts.     By  Charles  Simmdn5n     i2mo.,       .    .     .     $i  75 

The  texts  are  printed  in  full,  thus  saving  the  inconvenience  of 
constant  reference.  The  subjcds  are  alphabetically  arranged  with 
fuil  cross  references,  and  an  ample  index  is  provided. 

"  The  work  contains  not  merely  the  proof  texts  on  the  subje(5l  to  which  it  refers, 
but,  what  appears  to  my  own  mind  one  of  its  excellences,  the  texts  that  illustrate 
these  subjeds.  Though  the  arrangement  of  the  subjeds  is  alphabetical,  in  the  illus- 
traiion  of  the  subjeds  themselves,  the  author  has  observed  that  connection  between 
one  truth  and  another  which  gives  to  each  its  proper  place." — Dr.  Spring's  Intra- 
duflion. 

"  It  is  inconiparably  superior  to  anything  of  the  kind  with  which  I  am  acquainted, 
and  its  extensive  circulation  and  use  cannot  but  have  a  happy  influence.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  work  will  soon  supersede  every  other  of  the  kind,  as  1  am  clearly  of 
the  opinion  that  it  should." — Rev.  Albert  Barnes. 

"  I  consider  your  text-book  to  be  remarkably  suited  to  the  object  in  view,  and 
likely  to  be  the  Book  which  will  satisfy  not  only  common  people,  but  ministers  and 
all  men  of  logical  mind  and  cultivated  taste.  It  is  my  opinion  that  it  will  take  the 
place  of  all  other  works  of  the  kind,  and  that  nothing  else  will  be  called  for  or 
attempted  for  a  great  while  to  come." — Rev.  Leonard  Woods,  D.D. 

"As  a  help  in  the  sele<51ion  of  proof  texts  on  almost  any  subjeft  in  the  Bible,  I 
know  of  nothing  of  equal  value." — Rev.  Enoch  Pond,  D.D. 

"A  standard  work  which,  like  Cruden's  Concordance,  is  not  likely  to  be  super- 
seded by  anything  better  We  cannot  attempt  to  set  forth  all  the  valuable  features 
of  this  manual.  We  only  urge  all  Sunday-school  teachers  and  private  Christiana 
to  get  and  use  it." — 3".  .S".  Times. 

"  It  is  far  more  copious  and  reliable  than  any  work  of  the  kind.  A  better  help  in 
the  study  of  the  Bible  is  not  :iCce:s^f\^c.''^—Congrtgationalist. 

"  The  work  is  the  best  of  the  kind  wilJiin  our  knowledge." — AVw  Englander. 

THING'S    QUESTIONS    ON    THE    GOSPELS    IN    HAR- 

-*-^  MONY,  chronologically  arranged  in  189  separate  lessons  for 

Sunday  Schools  and  Bible  Classes.      By  Walter  King,  A.M. 

i8mo., - $0  40 

The  Same,  in  3  vols.,  each, 20 

•  This  excellent  question  book  was  rewritten  several  times,  and  each 
successive  revision  tested  by  adual  use  in  several  of  the  best  Sun- 
day Schools  in  the  country  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  any  defeds 
or  incorporating  any  improvements  suggested  by  its  practical  use. 
Though  mainly  designed  for  S.  S.  Bil)le  classes,  it  has  Ixcn  introduced 
with  great  advantage  in  Day  schools  and  Families.  The  arrange- 
ment is  chronological,  the  harmony  being  upon  the  basis  of  the  best 
expositors.  Many  valuable  notes  are  given  in  the  margin.  The 
appendix  contains  a  coiTibined  view  of  thirty  of  the  most  interesting 
scenes.  Se6tarian  allusions  arc  avoided,  suiting  it  to  all  de*  omina- 
tions. 


M.   W.  DodcVs  Catalogue. 

MIMPRISS.— GOSPEL  TREASURY  AND  TREA::^ 
URY    HARMONY    OF   THE   FOUR   EVANGE 

LISTS  :  having  the  Text  in  parallel  columns.  With  Scrip- 
ture Illustrations,  Praftical  Refle6lions,  and  Addenda 
Geographical,  Biographical,  Topographical,  Historical,  and 
Critical,  illustrating  manners,  customs,  opinions,  and  local- 
ities of  the  Sacred  Narrative,  with  analytical  and  historical 
tables,  and  a  very  copious  index  :  also  a  chart,  with  every 
event  numbered  and  localized.  By  Rouert  Mimpriss. 
Crown  8vo.,  over  900  pp.  Cloth  extra,  red  edges,  .  ^3  50 
Quarto  edition,  large  type,  cloth  extra,       .     .     .     ,     12  00 

It  will  be  found  to  supply  an  amount  and  kind  of  information  not 
found  in  any  other  volume,  and  to  fill  an  unoccupied  place  in  the 
literature  of  Bible  Helps.  Its  value  to  Sunday-school  teachers  and 
private  students  of  the  Bible  especially,  is  inestimable. 

The  liarmany  is  according  to  Greswell,  and  in  the  words  of  the  authorized 
version. 

An  import a7it  feature  is  the  arrangement  of  the  Four  Evangelists  in  parallel 
cohimns,  and  m  juxtaposition.  This  is  carried  out  with  great  niniuteness,  giving 
a  conijjarison  of  verses  and  lines,  and  even  words  for  consultation  at  sight.  'J'he 
arrangement  also  admits  of  the  Harmony  being  read  as  a  continuous  narrative. 

The  Notes  have  been  carefully  seledled  from  the  best  sources. 

The  Geographical  notices  are  from  the  most  reliable  authorities. 

The  Adclefula  supply  a  great  variety  of  matter  for  consultation,  illustrating  the 
text. 

The  Scripture  Illustrations  are  very  full,  and  are  calculated  to  lead  to  an  'Mtel- 
ligent  knowledge  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  state  in  a  few  words  the  merits  of  this  extraordinary  book.  To 
say  that  it  is  useful,  excellent,  valuable,  and  the  like,  is  tame,  and  far  below  its 
merits.  It  is  in  all  respecfls  a  most  unusual  book,  and  the  labor  in  its  preparation 
must  have  been  immense.  It  is  in  its  own  departmenfwithout  a  parallel  in  the 
language,  and  stands  many  degrees  at  the  head  of  its  class." — Primitive  Church 
Magazine,  Etigland. 

"  For  us  who  have  so  earnestly  approved  the  work,  and  urged  it  upon  the  at*<5n- 
»ion  of  Sunday-school  teachers,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  add  another  word.  It 
ranks  among  the  very  first  companions  of  the  Bible  in  bible  study.  Itisacon- 
tlensed  commentary  of  commentaries,  a  right-hand  helper  in  the  preparation  of  New- 
Testament  lessons." — S.  S.  Times. 

"  No  circulation  can  ever  repay  in  money  value  the  time  expended  on  it.  Should 
I  ev2r  be  jiermitted  to  go  over  the  same  ground-  again,  I  expedt  to  derive  gre»*. 
assistance  from  it." — Rev.  Ja7nes  Hamilton^  D.D. 

"The  Gospel  Treasury  prepared  by  Robert  Mimpriss  I  consider  one  of  tlie  most 
raUiable  helps  to  a  Sunday-school  teacher  that  I  have  ever  seen." — Rev.  StepMe» 
If.  Tyng,  D.D. 

"  Anything  like  an  adequate  idea  of  the  immense  amount  of  information  upon 
the  New  Testament  incorporated  within  the  compass  of  tViis  handsome  volume,  it 
is  difficult  to  convpy.  Within  its  portable  compass  we  find  matter  compressed 
si-fficient  to  fill  ter    idinary  demy  octavos." — Sjoi  lay-School  Teach'-r''s  li/agaz"td. 


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